The Aftermath
by JackAddict
Summary: He went to prison, got tortured, killed and revived. His body has healed, but what about his mind? Tony Michelle. Direct sequel to Faces from the Past. Pre S4. Last TWO chapters are up! COMPLETE.
1. Dr Burke's Part

**A/N:** This was originally supposed to be an epilogue to Faces from the Past, but the way things are looking right now, it is going to be a little more than that; a fanfic in its own right, though considerably shorter ;-). So that's why I'm posting it as a separate story. It does take place immediately after FftP, but the flashback should give you what you need to know - just in case you haven't read the fic or have forgotten where it left off. Here's Part 1. Enjoy.

* * *

_**Previously, on 'Faces from the Past'**_

Dr. Burke, a medic and Michelle are hastily leaving the detention area of Division and moving away from it. Tony, streched out on a gurney, still conscious but slightly calmed by the painkillers, is being rushed to the clinic.

* * *

Almost an hour after the surgery began, a nurse goes from the operating room to the waiting area where Michelle is. 

"How is Tony doing?" Michelle asks her.

"I'm afraid it looks very serious right now."

"Please tell me he'll live."

"I wish I could tell you that."

* * *

Jack is on the phone to Michelle, who is at the clinic, after the surgery started. "How are you holding up?" 

"Worried, worried to death. Afraid that he won't make it. Dreading the wait, the uncertainty."

"Jack, if you could have seen him..." she pauses. "He looked so fragile... Broken."

"I'm so sorry, Michelle." he utters quietly. "I really hope Tony makes it. You know I do."

* * *

In a holding cell at Division, Hammond is sitting in a metal chair, cuffed. Michelle stands close to the door, her arms crossed. "Do you have any idea what you did to Tony? After everything he'd done for us today?", she utters, her voice full of contempt. The question is purely rhetorical and Hammond doesn't answer it. If he had a choice, he would just ignore her and her treasonous husband for the rest of their lives. 

Michelle now takes a step or two into the room, coming to face him. She waits for him to lift his head towards her. "I despise you, Brad. I really do." she then says, her eyes focused on his, then pauses, looking at him in disgust. "May God forgive you, Brad. Maybe even a judge will. But I won't. Ever."

* * *

**Division, clinic; later on the day of the attacks  
**

Six hours had passed by the time the medical team finished the surgery on Tony. Having given the staff last instructions, Burke went to throw away the scrubs and to wash his hands and face. He looked at his image staring back from the mirror; "It's been a long day." he sighed, trying to prepare himself for what he had to do yet again. His shift had started some thirty-six hours ago and though the adrenaline had kept him awake, he was beginning to wish for a few hours of peace and quiet. He rubbed his face with a clean towel, enjoying the new freshness on his face that lasted for a few moments before the feeling was replaced by weariness.

He knew that he wasn't the only one who had had a lengthy workday; most of the people involved in the events of the past two days were probably still in their offices, in front of their computer screens, monitors and by their phones, trying to tie up loose ends. His most recent patient and his wife would have been one of those people, too. Tony had given everything he could to the operation, only to end up on Burke's operating table twice in twelve hours; and despite that, Burke felt that Tony would not hesitate to do the same thing again, if it proved necessary. He sighed again, humbled by the dedication to the mission that he had witnessed. He also knew that Michelle was anxiously waiting for news on Tony's condition. Not wanting to delay things, he headed outside the clinic to find her. Through the glass doors, he saw Michelle in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room, leaning her head on her palm.

"Mrs. Almeida?" he called out to her, entering the waiting area.

Michelle lifted her head as she heard a voice speak to her. "Dr. Burke." she uttered, recognising the doctor. She immediately stood and went to meet him halfway to the door, trying to read from his face any visible signs that might tell her how the surgery went. He wasn't smiling, and she had to tell herself that this meant nothing. She would not panic, she would wait to hear what he had to say first. She hesitated a moment, dreading the answer to the question she had to ask, not sure if she could deal with another piece of bad news. Burke was obviously contemplating his choice of words, too, because a wordless moment came and passed as they shook hands. Only then did she finally force herself to ask: "Is Tony alive?"

Dr. Burke didn't reply immediately. "Let's sit." he led her to one of the chairs and sat down next to her. Then he found her gaze and held it, before replying: "Yes, he is."

At this, Michelle let out a small sigh of relief, but she knew that more was coming, and indeed, Burke soon continued. "But his condition is still critical. Tony had a rupture in his spleen and had heavy internal bleeding both from that and the previous injuries. We had to remove the spleen to get the bleeding under control and to save his life."

Michelle looked away from him for a few seconds, her head nodded slightly, but absently, as if acting on its own, out of her control. _At least he's alive_.

He stopped for a moment to let Michelle process what he had just said, and when she looked at him again, he touched her hand slightly, reassuringly, and gently told her: "The next forty-eight hours are extremely critical. Tony's body has suffered major injuries and his system had already been weakened by the previous interrogation and the gunshot wound. Had he been healthy when all this happened, his chances would have been better, but all we can do right now is wait."

Michelle nodded in silence. Her eyes were turned to Burke, but not looking at him or at anything in particular. She hardly registered his hand on hers, as he continued: "We'll see what the situation is in forty-eight hours; if he's stable enough, we will transfer him to one of the trauma centers for additional surgery." Burke ended his explanation, his eyes attentively watching Michelle for a reaction.

Michelle seemed distant, trying to process the meaning of what she had just heard. She wasn't willing to believe anything other than that Tony would be okay when it was all over. She knew, whether it was out of selfishness or not, that she needed him to pull through, that she wanted him to come back to her. "How many surgical procedures do you think will be necessary?" She refused to add '_if he's stable enough_' to the end of that question, trying to make herself believe that if she didn't actually doubt it, it would happen.

"I can't say for certain, but more than one in any case. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you at this point. We will know more in forty-eight hours." he said sympathetically, carefully looking at Michelle.

Again, Michelle nodded and this time, she was looking at Burke. "Can I see him?" she uttered after a while.

Burke nodded. "Yes, you can. But you should know that he's heavily sedated, so that his body can use as much energy as it can to heal."

"He won't know I'm there..." she uttered lowly, more to herself; the phrase sounded half like a statement, half like a question and she looked past Burke for a moment.

Burke gave a small smile and spoke: "Well, he might not consciously register it but he will probably sense it. People who have been in a coma and later woke up have said in interviews that they just knew when someone was there. So it's likely that Tony will know in some way." Burke finished gently.

Michelle nodded silently, then returned her eyes to him again, asking softly: "How long will you keep him sedated?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'd estimate it could be a week, possibly longer, but it all depends on Tony's condition and to some extent it's up to the surgeon at the trauma center. They will decide when it's safe to start waking him up. But I'll make sure you can stay with him in the room when he's transferred."

"Thank you."

For a short while they sat there next to each other in the cheap, white, plastic chairs, each in their own thoughts, staring somewhere ahead of them. Then, out of nowhere, Michelle spoke. "Dr. Burke... Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course." he replied without hesitation.

"You were there during the interrogation, weren't you?"

"During a part of it, yes." Burke admitted, not wanting to lie to her; she had guessed it from Tony's reaction in the cell.

"What happened in there?"

The question was plain and simple, but the answer was everything but easy. Burke looked at the floor, almost ashamed of his role in the events, feeling like he had not done his duty as a doctor to help Tony. He sighed slightly and answered: "Well... Knoll came to get me because he was concerned about Tony's state. I examined him the best I could and told Hammond they should stop, but he was adamant. So, they continued for a while, after which I intervened on medical grounds and had them stop. I would have transferred Tony to the clinic at that point, but Hammond said he was a security risk and refused. I had no choice but to agree to leave Tony in the holding cell."

Burke knew he should have told her the truth and the details, but his compassion told him to leave them out, so as not to cause her any more grief. What would the information, that they had actually killed and revived her husband during the interrogation, benefit her if Tony did in fact die now: a little white lie, or an omission, would not change things for the worse. "I'm sorry." he added sincerely.

She nodded and waited for a while, thinking. "Steve Sheldon had said he had been ordered to keep this from me. Did Hammond forbid you to talk to me about it, too?" she then asked and quietly added: "Because I would have wanted to know."

After hearing Michelle say those words, Burke now realized how difficult the situation actually was. _How do you respond to that statement? There's nothing you can say to her to justify why you didn't tell her_. he thought guiltily. Then he replied: "No, he didn't. Coming to you simply didn't occur to me, I was just thinking about getting Tony to the clinic then." he said apologetically.

Weary of discussions and accusations, Michelle let go. After all, Burke probably will be the one who will have saved Tony's life in the end and what had already happened before could not be changed. The only aim right now was to focus on making sure Tony survived this disastrous day and then help him forget it, if humanly possible.

Slowly, she stood, offering her hand while looking Burke in the eye: "I know you did your best to save Tony. Thank you."

Burke stood and took the offered hand. "You're welcome. It's my job." he said and smiled faintly._ She would have had all the right in the world to yell at you for letting it come this far_, he thought.

"I'd like to see Tony now." Michelle stated and the doctor nodded.

"I'll take you to him."

Michelle nodded and turned away from Burke to pick up her jacket from the chair next to her. In her mind, she knew that she should be happy about the fact that Tony was alive, that he'd escaped death by the breadth of a hair, but in her heart, after all the waiting, all the pondering, imagining all kinds of scenarios and consequences of his injuries, she had begun to wonder if there was a fate worse than death; and even now, though there had been no mention of paralysis or neural damage, the darkness of her thoughts was still overshadowing everything, making it hard for her to think positively at the moment. Having put on her jacket, Michelle collected her purse and Burke led her out of the waiting room and to Tony.


	2. Jack's Visit

**A/N: **Someone asked me if this will end up being tied to _Faces from the Past_. Yes, in the beginning it will be, because this story is a direct successor to FftP. However, I am providing enough intel to understand where things are coming from. And as the story progresses and becomes more and more Tony and Michelle oriented, it will only contain minor flashbacks but nothing that will make the story incomprehensible to someone who hasn't read FftP (you are warmly invited to read it though!). Enjoy :-).

* * *

It was early evening on a cloudy, late fall Thursday in L.A. Three days had passed since the terrorist attacks on the city, three days since Jack barely escaped Morgan with his life, three days since Hammond took Tony into custody and almost tortured him to death. Now, after a lengthy, largely eventless day - unless you count debriefs - at the DOD's temporary office in LA, Jack was back in his SUV, driving. The DOD offices were long behind him and he was approaching a different neighborhood now. He drove within the speed limit, obeying traffic signs and signals. For once, there was no rush to get anywhere. However, that didn't mean that everything was quiet inside him. 

Sure, they had managed to neutralize the perpetrators, stop further terrorist attacks from happening, and save David Palmer's life. But the sacrifices made in those 24 hours were considerable, too. And they didn't only include Jack's physical wounds; the stab wound, the torn and scortched skin on his arm, the cuts and and injuries, they would heal. Doctors have taken care of them and though it would take time for the wounds to close, statistically, both Ragen and Morgan were just another item on Jack's growing list of painful encounters. Yet the scars ran deeper than skin, and Jack wasn't the only one to walk away with a few of those.

As Jack drove, his mind increasingly grew restless. The past two days had been spent filing reports and sitting in hearings, meetings, debriefs. Secretary Heller was still furious about Jack's insubordination when Jack had decided, against Heller's orders, to kidnap Robert Louden from the Federal Detention Center in LA in order to interrogate him. And in addition, Louden, a federal witness, ended up dead. Even though Jack's actions eventually led to success, Heller was not willing to overlook the fact that what had happened was not what he had ordered Jack to do. When Jack walked out of CTU with Audrey after another 24-hour workday, he was certain that he was on the verge of losing his job. And, as it turned out, he was right to assume that.

When the debriefs started the following morning, everything crashed down on Jack and while he drove towards West Hollywood, he once again formed the list in his mind. Shooting Ragen's collaborator James Smith in the shoulder within the DOD walls, which led to Smith's death - needless to say, Heller hadn't signed off on that action, either. Secretely meeting a presumed contact at the Griffith Observatory without letting the Secretary know - another action that resulted in death, this time, of a DOD employee - not to mention that this so called informant Jack had met with might have been of some use, had Jack managed to capture him alive instead of killing him. Keeping secret the information about a security breach at the Department of Defense instead of warning Heller: the mole could have been discovered hours earlier, which could have saved at least two lives: Brad Hammond's and Robert Louden's. And Heller hadn't forgotten Jack's assault on Hammond when Hammond first questioned Tony's loyalty. However, Heller decided to drop that case for lack of evidence: Hammond had passed away and couldn't testify as to what really happened. But other than that, Jack indeed had been held responsible for every off-book action he had taken during that day. And things looked grim when he left the DOD building just minutes ago. He was certain that he'd have to search for a new job soon, although he wasn't willing to waste time thinking about it at the moment.

The end justifies the means - that's what is said sometimes, and at times like the day in question, this saying unfortunately held true. There was always time pressure, and always a serious threat. Human lives were lost, some were sacrificed in order to achieve more important goals. How to weigh one against the other was left to each person to decide; there was no general recipe for that. To Jack, only one thing had always been clear: the mission comes first. Always.

But even Jack wasn't willing to give Tony up to Ragen or to leave him at Hammond's mercy wthout doing something about it. The consequences of his actions had been secondary then and even now, Jack was not regretting one decision he'd made during that day. Well, maybe one; bringing Tony into the undercover operation caused Jack's best friend more pain and grief than Jack would have wished on an enemy. Not that CTU would have been able to infiltrate Ragen's group that quickly without Tony's help. It was just that that particular mission seemed to be Tony's resurrection and his downfall at the same time.

Later on the day of the attacks, when Dr. Burke had finished surgery on Tony, Jack had gone to the Clinic at Division to see if Tony had made it and to be with Michelle. She had fallen apart in his arms, unable to remain strong any longer. Jack had spent hours sitting there with her, next to Tony's bed; words were scarce as both of them were lost in their thoughts, both of them feeling responsible for Tony's condition, both of them hoping he'd recover. Now, as Jack was driving West on Beverly Boulevard, towards the hospital Tony had been transferred to, optimism was finally beginning to rank slightly higher than doubt.

Moments later, Jack turned into the garage of the Cedars-Sinai hospital, parked the SUV and headed up to the elevator. Moments later, he exited it, walked through a hallway marked 'I.C.U.' and knocked on one of the doors.

"Come in." a weary, female voice replied after a second or two.

Jack pushed the door open and smiled slightly at Michelle. "Hey."

"Hey, Jack." Michelle uttered, smiling back at him for just a second. She was way beyond tired by now, not having left Tony's side longer than a few minutes in a row for three days. Add to that the long day at the office while dealing with the terrorist threat - she was simply too tired to get up and greet Jack properly.

Jack didn't mind and walked into the room.

Mechanically, he caught himself glancing out the window at the end of the room before walking deeper in, as if to make sure the area was secured. Through the window, last rays of the sun were reflecting inside, between the clouds that had begun to clear just prior to the sunset. Their flicker combined with that of a small reading lamp attached to the wall by a regular hospital bed with white sheets, soft pillows, wheels. The reading lamp was the only light that was on inside the 10 by 15 feet, average sized room. The walls were painted white, a panel with valves for different equipment was rounding one wall. The figure resting on the bed was Tony.

In passing the bed, Jack looked at his friend; Tony's face was paler than normal, his eyes closed as if peacefully asleep. Only the quiet hum and beep of the machines around him revealed the severity of the situation. He had an IV in his left arm and was on a respirator that helped him breathe. Next to the respirator was another panel, monitoring his blood pressure and heartbeat. By his bed, in an uncomfortable plastic chair, sat Michelle. Jack joined her, pulling an identical chair next to hers and sat down, setting a plastic bag to the floor underneath the bed. He and Michelle hugged wordlessly, almost solemnly, while Jack closed his strong arms around her for a few seconds. He could feel her breathe in deeply and he was sure she had closed her eyes. When she finally exhaled and he felt her hands move, Jack pulled back, sat up in the chair. The look in his eyes was soft, worried, as he asked: "Any news on Tony's condition?"

Michelle took another breath, shaking her head even before replying. "No..."

She knew she couldn't leave it at that, Jack deserved to know more. She glanced at Tony, sighing. "According to the doctors here, he's been taking it okay so far. Dr. Burke did a good job at Division. Tony had surgery here at the hospital today, and it went well, but the doctors say it's not over yet." Her eyes looked at Jack. "He's still critical... They're keeping him in an artificial sleep now. They think they'll have to take him into surgery again in a day or two."

"It takes time." Jack said understandingly. "He's been through hell."

Michelle looked at the floor for a moment. "That day wasn't exactly a joyride for you, either, Jack." she then said, looking him in the eye.

"No. It wasn't." Jack admitted and felt a sting in his left arm. His wounds had been reminding him of their existence every now and then. "But remember, we've prevailed. And Tony's still alive. He'll make it." he told her, convincingly, like only Jack Bauer could.

Michelle just smiled and leaned back in the chair, both her hands on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and took her time exhaling, resting her head on her hands.

"How are _you_, Michelle?" Jack asked after a while.

Slowly, Michelle lifted her head again, looking at Tony. "Worried. And still scared." she replied.

"Yeah." Jack nodded, knowingly. "But that's not what I meant."

She let out a small laugh, "Well, I'm tired, too, but I guess that's pretty obvious."

Jack glanced at Tony for a second, then took Michelle's hands into his. "Michelle, why don't you go home and rest for a few hours?"

Michelle shook her head. "No, I couldn't leave Tony alone."

"He _won't_ be alone." Jack said and offered: "I'll stay with him."

Michelle eyed him for a second or so. She knew Jack meant it, yet something inside her rebelled against the suggestion. "Thanks, Jack, but I can't leave. Tony needs me to be here with him. Besides, you're working tomorrow."

Jack sighed. "Michelle. You've been sitting by his side for three days straight. You're exhausted. You should go home, have a nice bath and a long sleep."

He paused, and as his voice subsided, in Michelle's mind the thought of a warm bubble bath was starting to sound very inviting. Meanwhile, Jack continued. "There's nothing you can do here right now. I'll watch Tony, I won't leave his side. And I'll instantly let you know if there's anything new. Okay?" he finished, looking at her.

Michelle waited for a second or two, thinking, then gave in. "Okay... You're right."

"Good." Jack smiled. He let go off her hands, then reached for the bag he'd brought with him.

"What's that?" Michelle asked, suddenly interested.

"A survival package."

"Survival package?" she echoed, amused.

"Yeah. Bread, fruit, chocolate and some canned food." he smirked. "Chloe thought your fridge might be empty."

Michelle laughed heartily and took the bag from Jack, looking inside it. "SpagettiO's!" she exclaimed. It was an unexpected gift and though it was in itself a small gesture, it meant the world to her right now. "Thanks." she said, touched. Chloe was right. Whatever there was in their fridge would have gone bad by now, and either way, Michelle really wouldn't have dared cook it.

"No problem." Jack replied.

She got up, and so did Jack. Both of them looked over at Tony for a second, then, with a small sigh, Michelle started gathering her things, while Jack picked up the phone that was on a mobile nightstand by Tony's bed and dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" Michelle asked.

"I'm calling you a cab. You're not driving in your condition."

"Thanks." she agreed. Jack was right. She would probably fall asleep at the wheel.

Michelle quickly finished packing the few things she had with her while Jack was on the phone, and as he hung up, she remembered something, turned to Jack. "Has Heller made a final decision yet?"

"About me? No. Not yet." Jack replied. "I'm suspended. He has all the information, now it's his call."

"What do you think will happen?"

Jack shrugged, walking in her direction. "I don't know. Best case scenario is he'll take disciplinary action against me, but I get to keep the job. Worst case, I get fired. What happens from there, is anyone's guess."

"I'm sorry, Jack. I know what you did was to save Tony."

Jack stood opposite her and found her eyes. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. It was the only choice I could make."

She held his gaze for a while, then uttered hardly audible "Yeah..."

The phone rang, and Michelle went to answer it. She was told that the cab had arrived. She thanked the receptionist, then hugged Jack again. "Thank you, Jack. See you in the morning." she whispered.

"Take your time." he whispered to her hair. "Good night."

She pulled back and nodded. Taking her belongings with her, Michelle looked at Tony.

"Good night." she said to both men in the room, lingering at the door for a few seconds. Something was still holding her back.

Jack stood, silent, until Michelle eventually gave herself a push, and without looking at Jack again, left. Jack waited until the sound of her footsteps in the hall faded away, then finally took off his jacket, threw it on one of the chairs in the room and took a seat in the other.


	3. Unruhe

**A/N:** I'll take this opportunity to wish everyone a great new year. Thanks for reading so far and as I keep writing, I hope you'll keep liking what you read. Thanks for your reviews so far, keep 'em comin' ;-).

* * *

**DOD **

At the DOD's temporary offices in L.A. Secretary Heller was sitting at his ebony desk in a black leather office chair. A floor lamp in a corner and a reading lamp on the desk were on, and their light still provided enough illumination for work; it still hadn't gotten completely dark outside yet.

A file folder with a DOD seal lay before him and he opened it, removing a few pages from it, and spreading them on the tabletop. His desk was otherwise tidy. Folders and papers were piled up in an orderly fashion on the left side of the desk, two pens were patiently waiting side by side next to the computer keyboard, and the office phone was just to the right of the computer screen.

Heller glanced at the clock on the opposite wall: 6.42 pm. The official working hours were over and most of his staff had left for the day, but Heller stoically kept scanning through the document. He sighed to himself. The file in front of him was thick, its many white pages filled with words, material that he would have to use as a basis for his next decision. Heller leafed through the file, pausing at each page for a second or so until he reached the last page.

Then he closed the file folder, tapped his fingers on it a few times, thinking, while his eyes seemed to see through the opposite wall. Finally, Heller picked up the receiver, dialed a short number. The line rang twice before he heard "Audrey Raines." on the other end.

"Audrey, it's me. Could you come to my office?" he spoke into the phone.

"Of course, Mr. Secretary." Audrey replied, hung up the phone, then turned to a woman standing next to her: "Maggie, we'll finish this later, okay?"

"Of course, I'll wait." Maggie said, and started gathering her papers.

"Thank you." Audrey said, and stood, locking her computer terminal, then pushed her chair to the desk and waited for Maggie to finish. The office was not as spacious as Heller's but it was furnished in a similar way. Audrey's ebony desk was smaller, and there was no couch in the office; only a couple of comfortable leather loungers sat around a square glass table just beyond her desk. Audrey turned off the light and closed the door as she and Maggie left.

Moments later, Audrey knocked on the door of her father's office.

"Come in." he called, and she opened the door. Both of them greeted each other with slight smiles as she entered.

"Audrey, have a seat." Heller told her in a friendly tone, gesturing towards the sitting corner that consisted of two black leather fauteuils, a couch and a round glass table in the center. Then he stood to join her there, picking up the thick file from his desk.

"Thank you." Audrey said as she sat down in one of the fauteuils. She waited until he took a seat on the couch before she asked: "What's going on?"

Heller dropped the file folder he had been reviewing onto the glass table in front of them, then leaned back in the couch, his arms on the top of its backrest. "Take a look at it."

Audrey reached for the folder, opened it and leafed through it. The file contained transcripts from the debriefs and hearings of the past few days, as well as memos and other material. "This is about Jack." she uttered, the expression on her face somewhat puzzled.

The Secretary nodded unperturbed. "Yes, it is."

Audrey lowered her eyes again and continued looking through the pages for a short while, then, after reaching the final report, looked at her father, closing the file in her hands. "Why are you showing me this?"

Heller lowered his arms from the back of the couch and put them in his lap while sitting up. "I want your opinion before I make my decision." he told her. "You've worked closely with Jack since he started here, you sat with us in the debriefs and you heard his explanations just like I did."

"Yes, I did." she confirmed briefly, but he instantly continued.

"You know that Jack has a history of insubordination with CTU and as it seems, changing geography hasn't changed his behavior."

At this, Audrey looked away for a moment, while listening to Heller's words. "Jack ignored my _direct_ order and did what _he thought _was right instead. And that's just one of many things on the list."

Now Heller leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, interlocked his fingers. He paused and Audrey looked at him again. Heller returned the look and now spoke slowly, as if making a point of every single word. "Now, I appreciate Jack's instincts, but the chain of command is not something that is up to every individual to decide. It has been put in place for a reason and it has to be followed."

Audrey nodded and lay the file back onto the glass table. She leaned back, her palms on her thighs. "I agree. But when you look at what he's done and consider the alternatives, honestly, I don't see how he could have handled any of those things differently."

Heller gave her a quizzical look: "Are you telling me that disobeying my order is no big deal, Audrey?"

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I'm saying... It's just that..." she paused to breathe in and out and removed her glasses from her nose, then held them in her hand. "Maybe you should consider the fact that _without_ Jack, we probably wouldn't have gotten the results _when_ we did, and we might not have been able to get to Morgan at all."

"Jack still should have told me about Louden." Heller said, pointing a crooked finger in the air.

"Yes, he should have." Audrey agreed and shifted her glasses in her hand. "But weigh that against everything else that he's done that wouldn't have been possible _without_ him."

She paused for just a second, letting the words sink in, but kept eye contact with Heller. Then she continued, her voice persuasive. "He saved the life of a former President, for one thing, fully prepared to give his own. You can't just ignore that."

Heller stood and started to pace the office. Inside, he knew that Audrey was right. But he also knew that letting one person get away with insubordination like this might cause a chain reaction within the Department.

"Dad..." Audrey started, breaking her promise to herself to always use his title when addressing him, and Heller stopped walking, turning to her, equally unaccustomed to hearing her address him in this way. "Look... Jack might be a little hard to tame, but he does do his job."

She paused and saw in her father's eyes that he agreed. "And remember what you said about his dedication before you gave him the position." She smiled ever so slightly. Her voice was suddenly soft. "You don't want anyone else to be responsible for your safety. Jack _is _the man for the job."

Heller began to pace the office again and didn't reply for a few long seconds. "You may be right." he then stated, and took a few steps towards his desk, eventually sitting down on the chair by the desk. He looked at his daughter. "But Jack also kept me in the dark about other things today: Pete Hanson, for example. Had Jack told me about his suspicions, we might have been able to smoke out this mole earlier and we wouldn't have lost a Head of Division. Robert Louden wouldn't have been murdered. Pete Hanson might not have killed himself either. That's _three _dead bodies that might not have been necessary."

He gave a small sigh and took a pen in his hand, tapping it on the desk a few times, several seconds during which both of them sat in silence, thinking._ Not only is it three unnecessary dead bodies, but one of them was a high ranked individual within our counter terrorist apparatus_. _How can I just let that go unpunished? _He very well knew that he couldn't.

"Maybe." Audrey replied after a while and put her glasses back on. "But by not telling you this, Jack was_ protecting _you. He didn't know who could be trusted. He had been told, and he was a target. Letting you know of a mole within the Department would have made you a target, too."

Again, silence ensued. The Secretary and his daughter both sat, almost motionless. The only sound in the office was the ticking of the clock on the wall. _She's right, of course she's right. But I can't just grin and bear it_, thought Heller.

After a while, Audrey took the DOD file folder from the table, and slowly walked over to Heller's desk, handing him the documents. "Dad." she said quietly and he raised his eyes to look at her. "This is _your _decision. I can't and I don't want to make it for you. But Jack is a good man and I'm sure we're better off _with_ him here than without him." she concluded.

Her eyes lingered on him for a second or two. Slowly, Heller took the file from her, still in thought.

"Maggie is waiting for me. I'll see you later." Audrey finally uttered, smiling slightly, before turning to the door.

Heller just nodded, watched her exit the office and knew he had a very long night ahead of him.

**Tony's room **

After Michelle left, Jack sat in the chair for a while, looking at Tony, not really thinking much about anything, just looking at him. The rhythmic beeping of the machines around them was somehow hypnotic, and Tony's breathing, silent, but regular, was following the same rhythm. Night was falling outside and the small lamp by the bed soon wasn't enough to illuminate much of the room, but it didn't have to. The faint light fit the general feeling of the room, and the mood Jack was in; lots of variables were unknown, sort of in the darkness, in a haze that had to be lifted before anyone would know the future; if there was light somewhere down the road, it was too faint to be seen right then, but the belief, the faith in that light was there.

Jack looked at his wrist watch and for a moment thought that Michelle would be home by now, and hoped that she would get some well deserved sleep. Offering to stay with Tony so that Michelle could go home was not atypical of his altruistic character, but if Jack had wanted to explain his reasons to anyone, he would have had to count a little bit of guilt in there, too.

He had talked about the events of the day of the attacks at length, be it with Heller or in the debriefs, although he had to admit to himself that, even though Audrey had been listening to his statements in the debriefs, they hadn't had a chance to really talk things through on a personal level and he knew that that conversation still awaited him. He hadn't allowed her to see his injuries, either; he had managed to avoid her seeing him undress by insiting on keeping their distance, and was able to plausibly explain this: Secretary Heller was not yet aware of their relationship and until Audrey decided to tell him about it, they had to keep it secret - and since Heller was watching Jack closely at the moment, Jack told her he deemed it too risky to meet with her in private. Audrey accepted his explanation, but he wasn't sure if she suspected other reasons behind it.

Either way, Jack was thankful for the silence and loneliness of the hospital room. It allowed him to just sink into his thoughts, and also gave him a good reason to keep his cell phone off. He could, of course, read something for work instead, but the debriefs were over, and, having been suspended, he actually didn't have anything to do - not that he would have. It wouldn't have felt right.

He glanced outside the window, suddenly realizing he was thirsty. He stood and walked to the bathroom to take a gulp of water from the tap, but left the door open so he could still watch Tony. Having quenched his thirst, he also splashed some water over his face, hoping to wash away the tiredness of the past few days, but maybe even more so, he wanted to get rid of things that stuck in his mind; images, memories, emotions. Yet he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

He stood above the wash basin and looked himself in the mirror. The person staring back at him was someone he had lost touch with years ago. It wasn't just losing Teri; so much had happened since, that even Jack himself would have to admit it was about time to get over it and move on. He had tried that with Kate Warner, but after a while noticed it wasn't going to work. Or maybe he just didn't care enough to _make_ it work. It was still too early - Teri had only been gone for 18 months, and he was still caught up in the past too much to be able to concentrate on someone new. Kate had noticed that and wasn't willing to play the part of a makeshift. She had also accused him of having trust issues, and who could blame her. No matter how close she and Jack could have become, she was still the sister of a terrorist and she had felt Jack could not really unstick that label from her or her family, even after Marie was sent to prison for life.

Jack frowned slightly. How would Kate react if she knew about Marie's involvement in the most current threat? Including all the details, about the compound and how she died? He knew Kate had probably found out about Marie's death and the breakout; as the only immediate family, Kate and her father would have been notified. But maybe they had been told she had died during the breakout - at least he hoped so, for their own peace of mind. Accepting that version would have been easier than trying to understand Marie's reasons for once again attacking the country. For just a moment, Jack thought about calling Kate, but decided against it. Past is best left in the past and he didn't want to cause any pain to resurface in her heart. Maybe she didn't know he had been involved in the case and if she didn't, it was smarter to keep it that way.

Jack sighed inwardly and moved away from the bathroom and into the room again. He stood by the open bathroom door, looking inside. Tony seemed peacefully asleep and Jack hoped that he really wasn't feeling any pain.

Jack glanced at the floor for second, then went over to the plastic chair again and sat. _What have I gotten you into, my friend?_ he thought. _Had I not asked for your help at the DOD, you would be okay now_. Jack pressed his fingers against his eyes, his elbows leant on his knees and sat still, holding his breath. _Dammit, Tony, how could this happen?_

He wished he could talk to Tony, he wished Tony could talk to him. _This is all my fault_. _It's all my fault_. Jack kept telling himself. _I brought you into this, I sent you undercover, I allowed Hammond to push you to the limit_. he pondered.

_What else could you have done, Jack? _his mind asked him. _You were captured by Morgan, you dealt with Louden as soon as you could_._ There's nothing you could have done differently_.

Yet the monitored beep of Tony's heartbeat told Jack otherwise. _No_._ I could have stopped Hammond before he took this too far_._ I should have called him, I could have said something, I should have taken him out of play_.

Slowly, he sat up in the chair, finally allowing himself to breathe in again. He sat quietly for a little while, keeping his eyes on Tony. _You don't deserve this_. he thought to himself. _You did everything to help us, you gave everything_._ This shouldn't have happened_.

Jack stood and moved closer to the bed, then spoke: "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry."

He walked away from the bed, and stopped by the window, staring into the night.Jack remembered reading the debriefs he had obtained access to through his channels. _They had killed him_._ Hammond actually pushed Tony so far that his heart gave up_._ And then he threw him into a cell, knowing full well what impact that would have on Tony's mind_. _And all that for what? And why? Because he wouldn't verify the information he got_.

Jack watched a drop of rain hit the dry window pane and slowly glide downwards. Soon, another drop fell, then another. It was beginning to rain. Jack's thoughts wandered back to the time he saw Michelle at Division after Tony's first surgery; he saw her tears and fear and realized it was good she hadn't been back at work so far. The first thing she would read would be the debriefs, including the report on Tony's interrogation and she didn't need to know it all. Not now. Jack knew there would be no way to stop her from finding out at some point, but, for her sake, he was hoping it wouldn't be any time soon. He knew Tony would want to protect her from that, just like Jack himself was trying to protect Audrey.

_Audrey_. He smiled slightly at the thought. The relationship with her had been different from the one with Kate. Almost five years had passed since Teri had been taken from him, and Nina's death, even though it didn't numb the pain, at least put a period on a chapter, a chapter about sorrow, disgust, contempt and revenge.

Audrey was not Teri, obviously, but Jack had had to learn to stop comparing every woman to the mother of his child; no woman would ever be Teri - but that was okay. Teri lived in his memory and Audrey understood that. What she also understood better than Teri or Kate ever could, was his job, both the job he used to have at CTU and the DOD one. She knew about prioritizing, terrorist threats and the days at the office that didn't seem to end, but while Jack gave her insight into his present, he still wanted to shield her away from his past.

He had told her he was happier now than he was at CTU, that dealing with threats from behind a desk, not having to sacrifice everything on any given day, suited him better. But if he was honest, Jack knew that wasn't the truth. He had known since he took the job that the only reason for that was that he needed a break and a change of scenery. Also, he wanted to outrank the likes of Brad Hammond and Erin Driscoll. Being in Washington gave him the chance to see the big picture and use his experience to connect the dots quickly and have more options to deal with the threats. But somewhere deep inside, he knew that if need arose, he'd be back in the field, no questions asked, despite everything, just like happened a few days ago. He was sure that Audrey would bring that up sometime, and he would have to convince her again that the desk job in D.C. was the right thing for him at this point in his life. But he knew that he could do it.

Again, he looked at Tony. _A desk job would have been safer for you, too_. he thought. _But_, and he let out a small breath, _you and I have never been about safety, have we?_

He remained standing for a while. Tony's breathing hadn't changed, nor had anything else in the room. The hypnotizing hum and beep of the instruments were still there, the reading lamp was still on, and Tony's chest rose and fell in the same rhythm as it had when Jack first arrived. Jack pulled the other plastic chair as close to the bed as possible and sat on it.

"Tony... I know you can hear me." he began. "I saw the debriefs... I know what you've been through..." Jack took a breath. "Remember when you came to see me in the hospital after I had the heart attack? It was nothing compared to this, but... we talked about George Mason and about Teri... You told me that I had a death wish - by the way, George had told me that too earlier that day - and I tried to deny it, but you wouldn't buy it. And then you said something to me that I'm going to say to you now: Don't give up."

Jack paused, as if wanting these words to take effect, even though Tony wasn't consciously listening to them. "I had Kim to take care of, you told me, that even though Teri was gone, Kim was still there and no matter how angry she was at me, I still had a responsibility for her." He smiled slightly at a thought in his mind. "Of course, I knew that, but it took hearing it from _you_ for it to actually sink in; that's what it took for me to try and get a grip on my life again. I don't think I ever told you this, but... Thank you."

His head sunk, as did his eyes. He stared at the floor. His eyes looked back at Tony just a split second before he reaffirmed: "Thank you."

Again, Jack fell silent, now going forward in time, back to the period between Tony's pardon and the day of the attacks. He remembered talking to Michelle about Tony's drinking problem, he remembered her asking him for help, he remembered the day he and Tony met at the coffee shop to talk; it was the only time Tony had agreed to meet. That was just over a week ago.

Secretary Heller and his staff, including Jack, were supposed to go back to D.C. a day or two ago, but the Secretary had prolonged their stay due to the current events. He wanted to stay on location until everything was cleared up and all the debriefs were done. They would be going back to Washington on Monday, which was in two days, and that meant Jack wouldn't be seeing Tony or Michelle again for a while.

Several minutes passed before Jack spoke again. "Tony, I know you're aware of this, but you, like me, have someone to take care of. Michelle is out there, she's worried about you... And Tony, she loves you more than life itself."

Jack sighed, gently grasping Tony's shoulder, as if trying to let some strength flow through his arm and hand into Tony's body.

Several seconds later, he let go and leaned back in the chair. On the horizon, a faint glimmer of light slowly began to turn the black of the night into very dark purple.

* * *

Unruhe unrest, agitation, disquiet. An homage to an episode of The X Files any X-Philes among you might remember. 


	4. Explaining The Unexplained

**A/N: **This chapter is a little short but will be followed by another in just a couple of days, so check back soon. The two chapters just felt like entities and I didn't want to bring in anything else at this point. You may have noticed that the update rhythm for this fic is faster than for the fics before this - so be sure to keep up with reading ;-).

* * *

Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Intensive Care Unit  
  
Six or seven days had passed since the attacks, and Tony was still kept asleep, so that his body would use all its energy to heal. The room hadn't changed, the hum and beep of the instruments was still there, the uncomfortable plastic chairs were still there, Tony was still there - and so was Michelle. She had come to dislike the white walls, the hideous plastic chairs, the sterile room, having spent day after day there and she wanted nothing more than to go home with Tony and just pretend to be a normal couple without worries or terrorists or painful memories to overcome. She had been thankful to Jack for making her spend at least that one night at home. She had indeed tried to relax, and sleep had not been a problem - she had been exhausted enough. Jack had tried to talk her into going home on Saturday, too, but she refused. Even though she hated the hospital room by now, she found comfort in the thought that Tony might get better sooner if she was there with him. Sitting there, alone with her thoughts, the last thing she expected was a knock on the door. But it came. Startled, she looked towards the door, expecting it to open, but as it didn't, she called out:

"Come in."

Now, the door slowly opened and revealed a woman in her fifities, standing in the doorway, a woman Michelle had never seen before. She was dressed neatly in a brown skirt, its length just below the knee, a beige blouse and a blazer matching the skirt. An inconspicuous necklace was hanging from her neck, her eyes were partly hidden behind a pair of glasses, their outline traced by a thin, black, metal frame. Her make up was unobtrusive, her lipstick just a little too red, her dark blonde, straight hair neatly combed and falling obediently to her shoulders but not any further than that.

The visitor remained outside the room, hesitant, as if reluctant to intrude on the privacy of the couple in the room, even though only one of them was conscious. While she held on to the door handle with her left hand, she moved her right to her shoulder to prevent her medium-sized brown leather handbag from falling off. She showed a small but friendly smile and finally spoke: "Mrs Almeida?"

Michelle moved from the edge of the bed where she had been sitting, smiling slightly, but tiredly in return. "Yes." she uttered, but realized the look in her eyes must have been inquiring because the woman in the doorframe cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably before speaking up again.

"Uhm... Mrs Almeida, I'm Erica Hammond, Brad Hammond's ex wife." she added quickly as she noticed Michelle's eyes widen somewhat at the first mention of her surname.

Michelle managed to catch herself quickly and even though the way she looked at Mrs Hammond thereafter was not unfriendly, she did ask herself what the aim of this visit was. She didn't reply for a moment.

"May I come in?" Erica asked politely, still outside the room.

"Um... Yes, of course." Michelle quickly replied as her visitor quietly stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"No, you don't need to get up on my account. Sit." she told Michelle gently as Michelle made a move to stand, and Erica took a few more steps inside, tentatively looked around the room, first at Michelle then at Tony's still form on the bed. "How is he?" she asked, stopping a couple of feet away from the bed.

Michelle sat back on the bed, glanced at Tony worriedly, then looked at Mrs Hammond. "I don't really know." she began. "He hasn't been awake since it happened. There was extensive damage to his inner organs, and he went through several surgeries to repair that. They're keeping him sedated to help his body recover. All they can do now is hope he stays stable."

"I hope he will recover, I really do." Erica told Michelle earnestly, a glint of sadness in her eyes. She paused while Michelle gently touched Tony's arm and their eyes rested on him for a few seconds.

"This is a bit awkward." Erica then continued with a small smile, her hand playing with the strap of her bag. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

_I think I have a hunch_. Michelle thought, her first surprise overcome, but decided not to interrupt.

"I guess, I suppose I want to tell you a few things in hopes that you'd understand what kind of a man Brad was, or rather why." she said with a sigh and Michelle began to look interested. Mrs Hammond looked at Tony for a moment, then back at Michelle, obviously thinking about how to start. She took a deep breath, looking somewhere into a distance for a few seconds.

"We... we met in college." she began. Her voice was steady, but had a slightly insecure note to it; it might have been the uncertainty how to word things, or doubt that she should even be here at this point, but she _was_ there, and she decided to say what she came to tell Michelle. With a small sigh, she continued: "I guess it was love at first sight. Brad was considerate and thoughtful, fun to be around... He worked for an import company before he got a job from the government. He was always passionate about his work, but it intensified as he started there. Suddenly, he could be gone for days or weeks on assignments and be very irritated as he got home." She directed a knowing smile at Michelle. "I suppose you understand that better than I do, doing the same job." She paused, collecting her words. "Brad wasn't really ready to hear what I wanted to tell him about what happened at home and what needed to be done. He lived for his job."

For a moment or two Erica watched Tony breathe peacefully and rhythmically, aided by the respirator. She could very well imagine that he too, had lived for his job. Michelle didn't interrupt her, but in her mind, she guessed where Erica's recount was going. Then, out of the blue, Erica spoke again: "I could understand that to a degree, but at some point it just got tiring. He was my husband and I needed him to be there with me. Or at least listen to me and talk to me like normal couples do. I didn't stop loving him, I still love him... But the silence was getting to be too much... So, I left him." Erica said. Sadness was beginning to build up in her, and her eyes were reflecting that.

Michelle noticed this and sighed to herself. "I understand that." she uttered. Erica's words were sounding familiar to her. Maybe they had a little more in common than she would have thought. "Why don't you take a seat?" she offered, noticing that Erica was still standing, and she motioned to a chair near the bed.

"Thank you." Erica nodded at the younger woman and sat, feeling a little less like an intruder than minutes ago, but still, not much more comfortable. She looked at Tony again and continued, sighing. "This might... this might appear outrageous, for me to ask of you to understand and try to forgive Brad after what he did to your husband..." Her eyes then found Michelle's. "I just wish to explain why he may have seemed so inconsiderate and cold to you." She paused, and Michelle looked away for a moment, not really sure how to feel. Erica then continued: "He wasn't always like that... He took his job seriously and wanted to do things right."

"We all do." Michelle replied, quietly, but somehow wasn't sure if she really wanted to go down this road of memory with Hammond's ex wife... It seemed inappropriate. Even though anything that might explain Brad's actions could help her understand his reasons, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear the justifications and she knew in her heart that she could never forgive him. "Mrs Hammond, you really don't need to apologize for Brad's actions..." she started, but was interrupted.

"I know that, dear. I know..." she breathed in, "that nothing I can say will change what he did, no matter how much I wanted it to. I just want to... tell you why he was the way he was these past years." Erica stopped and turned to look at the white wall of the room. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she continued in a quiet voice:

"We, Brad and I, had a son, our only child. To Brad, Ian was the apple of his eye... Brad might not have talked to me much in all these years, but he spoke to Ian often." She paused, as if collecting herself, or trying to fish the right words from her mind. "Ian worked for Cantor Fitzgerald Securities in New York. He had just been promoted, and he was so happy. I remember talking to him on the phone, he was just telling me that his new office was on the 104th floor of the North Tower when - " She sighed heavily. Unable to go on, she paused for a moment, dabbing a Kleenex at her eyes. Then, she spoke softly, almost to herself. "Ian died on September 11th 2001 in his office in the World Trade Center."

At hearing this, Michelle suddenly felt the need to be even closer to Tony than she already was. It was as if an invisible threatening cloud was hanging over him and she had to protect him. She changed her position on the bed, making sure her body was in contact with his while she sat there. She wanted to say something but no words would come out. Meanwhile, Erica continued.

"This crushed Brad. He knew that he couldn't actually catch the people responsible since they were already dead, but he vowed not to let something like that happen again. He became even more distant, his work became his everything. We were not married any more, but I knew Ian's death had hit him hard, so I tried to stay in contact with him, to see how he was doing. Most of the times I called Brad he was still in the office working on one thing or another. He refused to let it go. I suppose it was his way of dealing with the grief."

Michelle inched a little closer to Erica, looking at her sympathetically. She was now slowly beginning to understand a small part of the person behind Brad Hammond. She reached out, tentatively touching Erica's hand that was resting on her lap. "I'm sorry." Michelle uttered. "I didn't know that."

"Thank you. Seems like time doesn't heal all wounds, at least not yet." Erica said, taking a shivering breath, trying to overcome the tightness in her chest that had built up during the last few minutes. She looked at Michelle sorrowfully and squeezed her hand, getting up from the chair. "I guess I should be going, I don't want to bother you."

"You're not." Michelle said quickly. Even a sad conversation like this one was a welcome change from the anxious sitting by Tony's bed and hoping that no further complications arise. Besides, Michelle realized, she was beginning to feel sorry for Erica, and maybe slightly uncomfortable about feeling so sorry for herself. After all, Erica had lost her only son, and her ex-husband, whom she obviously still loved; and Tony, as injured as he was, well, at least he was still alive and there was a chance he'd recover. Brad and Ian Hammond, on the other hand, would never return.

Erica sent a very slight, reassuring smile towards Michelle and turned to leave, but stopped in the middle of the room to look at Tony. "I don't... I find it hard to believe that Brad would have done this to your husband because there was some animosity between them." Her eyes met Michelle's now and she spoke quietly, almost apologetically, but still, somehow composed. "After Ian died, Brad was angry at everybody; at himself, the government, you, his co-workers and the people behind the 9/11 attacks, of course. He thought they should have and could have been stopped. In his own eyes, he had failed to protect his country _and_ his son."

"And after what happened to you, the way he saw it was that your husband had failed his country and broken his oath by saving you. There was a time Brad would have been more understanding to what happened." she quickly added. "But after Ian... Brad thought that someone who allowed an act of terrorism to happen, let alone helped - no matter how unwillingly - was as much responsible for the outcome as the terrorists themselves."

Michelle's eyes stared at the floor. Now it was her turn to feel a lump in her throat at hearing Erica mention the events both she and Tony had been trying to forget. She swallowed it down; even though the words stabbed her like knives, she couldn't get angry at Erica for throwing them at her. She knew all too well how angry and devastated she would have been if she had lost Tony to a terrorist, God knew there had been enough occasions on which that could have happened. In a way, it was still a possibility, even at this moment.

She understood Hammond's position a little better now; it didn't excuse his negligence in dealing with Tony's so-called case, but Michelle found herself at least somewhat grateful for Erica's visit. She once again glanced at Tony, his eyes closed, and realized that she was hoping he had heard the conversation. Maybe it would make dealing with the pain a little easier.

"I understand that." the Federal Agent in her then said. She wasn't willing to tell Erica that she too, didn't really approve of the choice Tony had made, that she, too, thought he should separate the agent from the Husband better, but the Wife in her knew Tony better than anyone; his love for her was unconditional, undying and in his words, he 'didn't care' what consequences he would have to take upon himself to save her. Even after the hell he'd been through, he would do it again. Michelle very well knew that. But she didn't know how to explain this to an outsider. Nor did she want to.

Eventually, Michelle took a deep breath, then looked at Erica, now wishing for some privacy again. "Thank you for coming." she said sincerely.

"Thank you for listening to what I had to say." she replied, then slowly turned and left the room, closing the door behind her, without barely making a sound.

Michelle stayed back and wanted to lay beside Tony, feel his whole body next to hers, give him all the strength she had so that he would wake up soon and just be with her.


	5. Hope for Future

Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Los Angeles

Michelle was standing in Tony's room, by the window, looking outside. It was early afternoon, and Michelle's stomach was starting to howl for food. The day had been grey, unlike the usual sunshine L.A. treated them to most of the time, but a few rays of sunlight fought through and it looked like they would manage to chase the clouds away by the end of the day. It had been rainy this past week and Michelle couldn't help but think for a second that Tony hadn't actually missed much. If the circumstances had been different, and they had both had a few vacation days, they most likely would have spent the entire last week in bed anyway.

She chuckled at the thought. Daydreaming was a nice way to spend a few hours. Besides, it was more or less the only thing she could do while sitting here, waiting for Tony's condition to get better; but unfortunately, even if she wanted to lie to herself, dreaming would not change the past. It wouldn't make things undone and wouldn't make Tony healthy any faster. All it did was take her mind off the reality for a while, but when the fantasy was over, she was still in the sterile, white room, and Tony was still lying on the bed, artifically kept asleep. For days, he had been motionless, sedated, but today, that would change. Michelle had been relieved when the medical team, led by a Dr. Lance, an experienced surgeon in his late fifties, had finally decided to slowly start cutting down on Tony's medication. She would finally be able to exchange a few words with Tony, or at least see for herself that he indeed was getting better.

Suddenly, Michelle heard a sound coming from the bed, and turned to look at Tony. He was no longer hooked up to all those machines like he had been in Intensive Care. There was still an IV in his arm, but he looked much more like a living human being than a lifeless form on the bed. His face was still pale, but that was only because he hadn't been exposed to the sun for days. Noticing Tony was starting to stir, Michelle again sat on the chair right next to his bed, not wanting to startle him by sitting on the bed itself. She looked at him, still slightly worried, but with loving eyes that also reflected relief.

Tony's eyes were still closed. He knew he was stretched out on some kind of a bed because he felt bed sheets around him, a cover on him and his feet were warm. He had a feeling that he was awake - but maybe not. He felt hazy, it was like his head was filled with cotton. Not sure of his whereabouts or his situation, the first thing he thought of was to move his fingers and a hand slightly to see if they obeyed his brain. They did. He did the same thing with his toes and relieved, concluded that he wasn't paralyzed. _Ok, so my muscles move_. The next thing he noticed was the taste in his mouth; it was sour but somehow bitter as well. The closest thing he could compare it to was iodine. And iodine unmistakably reminded him of injuries and hospitals. Next came the overwhelming feeling of thirst: his throat was sore and his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara in the summer. He could hardly swallow properly. He knew he had been in a very similar situation not long ago._Oh, son of a bitch. Not again_. he thought as he connected the dots and began to realize what must have happened.

Michelle watched him move his fingers, then his hand. After a week of complete quiet and motionlessness on the bed, that simple action now seemed like a wonder to her, like a surprise no-one expected to see. All she wanted was to touch him, hold him, but knew she couldn't do any of that, at least not yet, she couldn't just lay down on the bed next to him. Tony's head was slightly turned to the other side of the room, so instead she just called his name very softly, somewhat insecurely.

"Tony?"

From somewhere through the haze Tony heard his name uttered and slowly turned his head towards the sound. He wanted to open his eyes but his eyelids felt like lead. He understood he was still on sedatives and they were still strong. Despite this, his mind was able to conjure up energy to realize: _Michelle?_

"Tony, it's me." she half-whispered. "Can you hear me, honey?" she added.

In response Tony gave a very small nod and fighting the heaviness of his eyelids, eventually managed to open his eyes a little and look up. His vision was blurry, but slowly he could make out her features.

Seeing his eyes open, Michelle let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Despite everything that happened, all the worries and uncertainties, seeing even just a little of Tony's deep, brown eyes already made her feel better and she managed to smile. The relief in her smile was mixed with pain at knowing what he'd been through and that it was still long from over, yet she couldn't help but feel happiness and hope overwhelm her to the point where her eyes started to water and she had to bring her hands up to her face to stop the tears from flowing freely. "Oh, God..." she managed to say under her breath.

Exhaustion was visible on her face and she felt it in her mind, too. She was not her usual, stable, composed self. She had not really slept in over a week, except for that one time Jack had sent her home. She had barely eaten, feeling bad about leaving Tony alone even for a few minutes. She knew in her heart that he needed her to be there with him and for him and that's exactly what she had wanted to do. But by now, she was completely exhausted, worried and very emotional.

Slowly, she moved a hand in Tony's direction, unsure of how he would react to her touch, but knowing that she needed to feel him and hoping that he felt the same way.

"Sweetheart... Tony..." she whispered, once again running the thumb of her other hand under her eyes, but now her smile was wider and her eyes dryer.

Tony felt her hand on his arm. He did not draw back, nor would he have had the energy to, but he welcomed her touch. It was warm and felt new, as if it had been the first time in his life that he'd felt it. He closed his eyes again and just lay there. He wanted to be close to her, to feel more of her than just her hand, but felt way too feeble to tell her so.

Sleepily, his voice weak from not using it, he called out to her: "Michelle..." It was not a question, just a way of letting her know that he knew she was there.

At hearing his voice, another wave of relief flushed over Michelle, for a second taking her under, but she soon swam on top of it and whispered: "Yeah, I'm here..." She crouched on the floor next to the bed and took his hand in hers, caressing it. "You're going to be okay. You'll be okay soon." Now, she was more sure of her words than she would have been mere minutes ago and though Tony had closed his eyes again, she was certain that he would recover.

Tony opened his eyes again slightly, and as he did, he realized that something was different. _This isn't Division, is it? _He turned his head slightly, trying to take in his surroundings. The walls were white and not grey and the room seemed larger and had more light than he was used to at Division or even CTU. He wanted to ask Michelle what had happened, but after swallowing painfully, he knew he had to soothe the soreness in his throat before he could speak, so he just whispered: "Water."

"Sure." Michelle smiled, while nodding and stood, walking to a small table in one corner of the room, poured half a glass of water and went back to his bed, gently sitting down on it. She set the glass next to the bed and reached under his head with one hand to help him, then brought the glass to his dry lips. "Here. Slowly..."

The cool liquid instantly eased the soreness in his throat and after a couple of gulps of water he felt somewhat better and nodded for Michelle to put the glass away. "Thank you." he whispered.

"How are you feeling?" Michelle asked, her hand slowly and gently going up his arm. She knew the answer wouldn't just be, 'I'm fine', but she needed to know that he felt life come back inside him, just like she had seen it come back.

"Tired." he replied, then swallowed. "And like I've been through the wringer."

Michelle nodded. Her hand had arrived to his hair line and she cautiously brushed aside a few strands of hair that were covering his forehead. His hair was soft from being out of touch with water for over a week, his forehead slightly wet from sweat and just for a second, Michelle imagined giving him a warm, sensual bubble bath - no, she wanted to have a bath _together _with him, like a loving couple that they were, despite - or because of - everything, like they used to do before things went wrong. She made a mental note to surprise him with a bathroom pleasure as soon as possible.

"You'll be okay, Tony." she said, smiling, confidence back in her voice. "Doctors say we could go home in a few days. Everything will be all right again."

Tony enjoyed her touch for a few seconds, all the while struggling to remember what had happened. And slowly, the previous events were coming back to him now. The shooting, the interrogation, the pain, the fear. "Where am I?" he asked.

"Cedars. They've just moved you to this room from Intensive Care." She paused, but his questioning look made her add: "Your wounds had reopened during the interrogation. A broken rib had ruptured your spleen. It was close. You had several surgeries but the doctors are pleased with the healing process and they say that, in time, you'll recover completely."

Tony closed his eyes, processing what Michelle had just said. Then he remembered the situation when he had been taken into custody. Jack had swapped himself for Palmer and Tony, along with CTU and Division, had been trying to track the men who had Jack but had lost them eventually. The situation had seemed bad at the time. Dread surfaced in Tony's mind and gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach: _Is Jack…_? he didn't want to think about the end result. Anxious, he questioned. "What happened to Jack? Did you find him in time?"

"Yes, he's okay." Michelle replied, smiling. Tony was remembering things. Even though the memories were not of the pleasant kind, it still meant that his mind was fully functional, which was good. "The DOD had dispatched the Marines for his help and they found him and brought him back. It was thanks to Jack and Chloe that Hammond's so-called 'witness' was discredited and your innocence proven." she paused, giving him time to process, then continued. "In fact, Jack came to visit you both at Division and here, and Chloe kept asking about you too. They're both very happy you made it." she finished and caressed his face. If Jack and Chloe were very happy, then Michelle was ecstatic inside. It was only her fatigue that prevented her from acting giddy with joy.

Tony just smiled slightly and leaned into her touch. If the situation had really been as serious as Michelle said, it was once again his friends and former colleagues who had indeed saved his life. He wanted to ask her more, but he felt too exhausted. All these little efforts had drained the energy he had. He tried to keep his eyes from closing; tried to fight sleep, because somewhere in the back of his mind he still feared that the next time he woke up he would be in the dark cell again, that Michelle and these moments had been just a hallucination.

Michelle noticed Tony was on the verge of sleep again, stood, and gently bowed over him, her warm lips touching his forehead. She kissed him and whispered to him: "Honey, you need rest. When you wake up again, I'll be here."

At her words Tony lifted his eyes enough to look into hers. In them he saw traces of worry and fear, but also relief, happiness and love. _She'll really be here. They won't come for me_, he concluded. Feeling himself gradually drifting back to sleep, Tony allowed his eyes to close and silently thanked God for Michelle, for her presence, for her love. He was sure she had been here with him all this time, too, not leaving his side, or if she had had to, he was sure it hadn't felt right. He wanted to tell her how thankful he was to her - how thankful he was _for_ her; that he had her, that she was his and he was hers. Right now, he knew it was impossible, but he would tell her sometime. With these thoughts, he relaxed and allowed the drugs to pull him under again.

* * *

It was a chilly night in Washington D.C. It was pitch black, the streets were wet with rain, the wipers on every car were moving at almost full speed, headlights shone through the veil of water they tore through. Few people were making their way through the rainstorm on foot, but those who had no choice fought against the wind that seemed to enjoy letting their umbrellas dance in a badly choreographed ballet. 

One of the Anti-Wind-Warriors was a thin woman in a dark, long coat. She wore light summer shoes and cursed herself for putting them on that morning, when the forecast had spoken of possible rain. But she had wanted to be optimistic and mistrusted the radio, with the result that she was now soaking wet, her shoes probably ruined and her umbrella ready for the trash can, not to mention her hair: it was a mess, thanks to the wind. She felt her hairstylist would have his hands full to just untangle the meshwork her hair had become. Ahead of her, she saw a sign that read _RESTAURANT AND BAR _and breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally." she muttered. Less than a minute later, she ducked into the place and threw her umbrella in the first bin she found.

Inside, she took off her coat and hung it in a locker, tried to make her hair look as good as possible in the tiny mirror on the inside of the locker door, then with a small sigh, went inside the place and behind the bar. "Hi Nell. Sorry I'm late." she uttered while taking off her wet shoes and slipping into comfortable ones that she'd taken out of the locker.

"Sally, hi." Nell replied, while filling four glasses with beer. Even while she spoke, Sally muttered:

"Damned weather out there."

Nodding her head towards the guests of the bar, Nell replied: "Yeah, I know. Good you made it, though, it's pretty full tonight."

"Good for the business." Sally sighed and got ready for work. Nell grabbed the tray with the four beers on it and walked away from the bar. She put two of the beers on a small table where two middle-aged men in suit and tie sat, then walked to a corner table occupied by a short-haired blond man and an even blonder woman whose hair was shoulder-length. They sat somewhat hidden by a concrete, modern art structure behind which their table was, so their faces were not in the plain view of everyone else in the bar. "Here you go. Cheers." Nell told them as she set the beers down.

"Thanks." the man replied in a deep voice, then Nell walked away. He took his glass in his large, rough hand, and lifting it, he said: "Audrey."

Audrey lifted hers in response. "Cheers, Jack." and they clinked glasses.

Jack wore an unbuttoned dark suit and a white shirt but his bordeaux tie was loosened. The look in his eyes was placid; he was smiling and held Audrey's hand with his left, the beer in his right. She, sitting opposite him, wore a lavendel colored suit, with the skirt ending just above the knee, and a faintly beige blouse underneath the blazer. She took a small sip of her beer, Jack gulped down a good third of the glass at once. Then she smiled at him again, and after a second or so, put out a question:

"So are you happy to be back?"

"With you or on the job?" Jack inquired.

Audrey squeezed his hand. "Both."

Jack paused for a couple of seconds, just looking at her. "Yes, I am." he then replied, and kissed her hand.

"You sure?" she whispered, bringing her other hand to cover Jack's left.

"What do you mean?" he asked, yet he knew exactly what she meant.

Audrey leaned in towards Jack, finding his eyes. "Jack... You're a field agent." she began, and Jack considered trying to protest but she instantly continued, in a steady and composed voice. "You've been in the field all your life, it's what you do - no, it's _who you __are_..."

Jack's eyes sunk to the table, he kept silent. He had known that she would bring this up the first time she had a chance to. He had been stalling for over a week after the events, giving his wounds time to heal and his mind time to process things. He didn't want her to see him hurt. His evasive tactics had worked well. The debriefs at the DOD had taken the better part of the previous week, and after they got back to Washington, he'd explained it away with the risk of being seen together by her father. Tonight, though, she hadn't taken no for an answer. She had picked a bar no-one she knew was likely to frequent and Jack had had to agree.

"I saw it in your eyes on that day." Audrey continued. "When the threat surfaced, you were there to deal with it. You could have let someone else handle things, but you didn't. You wanted to do it yourself." She took a breath, a second in which Jack looked back up, but let her speak on. "I'm asking because... I'm not so sure you're really happy here in D.C, doing something completely different."

Jack put on a slight reassuring smile. "Audrey... You're right, I _am_ a field agent." he said, and Audrey let out a small breath, glancing away for a second. When she looked back at him, Jack continued. "It's what I've been trained for. LAPD, Army, CTU, you know my profile. Field work is all I've ever done before coming here. But Audrey... The things I've seen, the things I've done in those years I never want to see again, I never want to do again."

Jack fell silent. He held Audrey's hand and she caressed his in return. A few moments passed before Audrey spoke again. "Why the DOD?"

Jack's eyes rose to meet hers. "Right now, only because of you."

Audrey shook her head. She hadn't anticipated this answer. "Jack..."

Jack squeezed her hand and got her attention back. "Audrey, listen to me. I lost my wife to a mole at CTU, almost lost my daughter. To my ex lover of all people. When I left CTU, my life wasn't worth anything to anyone. I made a clear cut. I chose D.C. because I thought it'd still give me the chance to serve my country but without asking of me to risk _everything_ for the job."

"And then, ten days ago, we discover a mole at the DOD." Now it was Jack's turn to look away for a moment. "The first thing I thought of when I found out was that I had to _protect you_. I wasn't going to lose you to a terrorist. I wasn't going to rely on anyone else to do the job. Anyone."

Jack paused for a few moments, his eyes on their hands on the table. "When I heard they wanted former President Palmer, that's when I _knew_ I'd have to do it myself. Now it was clear that I _couldn't_ rely on anyone else. There was a history there. To my ears it sounded from the beginning like the past was coming back to haunt us both. It sounded like the day of the California primary was coming back, the day when the first attempt on David Palmer's life took place, you know I was deeply involved in that operation. So _this_ time, I knew that whatever happened that day would be connected to Palmer, connected to the DOD mole in some way. And I had to find out how. And I had to make sure you stayed safe, I had to make sure everything played out. I was not going to stop until it was done."

Jack's words still hung in the air when Audrey freed her hand to brush aside a strand of hair, then scratch her arm. Her movements were unnecessarily slow, and Jack could tell that it was one of her tricks to buy time. She was thinking about what he'd said. When she looked at him again, he heard her say. "Can you still trust the DOD? After discovering it's been compromised?"

Jack's eyes lingered on her for a second, then he let out a laugh. "Trust... It's a difficult word, Audrey. Difficult for me anyway..." he answered honestly. Words like Nina Myers, Jamey Farell, Marie Warner came to mind. "I trust you and the Secretary." he said, if only to appease her. "I do _believe_ in the DOD, I believe in what we do, I believe in our country. But as for trust... It's hard for me to trust anybody these days."

"Yea... I guess I understand that, to a degree." she replied. "Especially after everything that you've been through..." She sat up in the chair a little, as if to provide her next words with more strength through her posture. "But Jack, you're going to have to start trusting people again or life will never get easier."

At this, Jack took both her hands and brought them to his forehead, leaning slightly on them, as if needing them for support. "I know." he said and paused. "I'm working on it, I just... When I worked for CTU, it turned out it was vulnerable to infiltration, it was compromised. I left CTU... and now the DOD has been compromised too." He stopped but Audrey waited, having a feeling that he would say more. As he brought her hands to his lips and planted a soft kiss on them, he finished, locking his eyes with hers. "Like I said, I believe in the work we do, but right now, the only reason I'm staying here - is you."

Jack knew that this kind of honesty was risky. If anyone was eavesdropping on them, or if Audrey ever needed something to use against him, she or anyone else could claim he wasn't fully dedicated to his work, which could cost him the job. But the music in the bar was just loud enough for their conversation to remain private, he needed allies in the DOD and he knew he had to begin with trusting _someone_ - and it might as well be her.

"So..." Audrey began, "You really are planning on staying here, with me?"

"Yes." Jack answered without hesitation. "Yes. I'm staying with you. There's no reason why I shouldn't."

Nell came by the table, carrying a tray with a couple empty glasses on it. "You guys need anything else?" she asked them.

"No, we're fine." Jack replied, and Audrey added with a smile. "No, thanks." Nell nodded and wiggled away. Jack let go of Audrey's hands and took a gulp of the beer. Audrey did the same, then looked around the bar. It was even more crowded than when they had come in.

Suddenly, Jack's cell phone rang and he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to answer it.

"Is it Secretary Heller?" Audrey asked anxiously as Jack dug the phone out.

"No, it can't be him. You said he was attending that charity dinner in Arlington tonight."

"Yeah, he is." she remembered and exhaled the breath she'd held.

Jack glanced at the caller ID. "It's Michelle from L.A." he told Audrey, then picked up. "Bauer."

"Hey, Jack. It's Michelle." She had stepped outside the hospital, just to be able to make a couple of phonecalls, not wanting to use the room phone because Tony was asleep but she hadn't wanted to wait any longer, either. The sun was low on the orange sky, about to set, the clouds had indeed cleared up, allowing a free view of the colorful play, and her stomach now demanded some dinner, but she figured there would be enough time for that later, it was still early.

"Hey, how is Tony?" Jack instantly asked. He had been kept up to date by Michelle, so he knew that Tony's medication was being cut down slowly .

"He woke up today. He's going to be okay." Michelle told him and as she did, she felt tears of relief come up inside her but kept them inside.

Jack smiled at the phone in his hand, his eyes closed for a moment. "Thank God. That's great news, Michelle. I'm so glad."

"Yeah, me too."

He could hear her the happiness in her voice even from thousands of miles away. Jack put a hand to his other ear, trying to block out the sounds of the bar. "So, when can he leave the hospital?"

"Uhm, I don't know for sure yet. In a few days." Michelle replied, and turned away from the street, and towards the concrete wall of the hospital, as if she needed privacy for what she wanted to say next. "Jack, thank you. Thank you for saving his life." _Twice in one day._

Jack's eyes sunk to the floor. _I just got lucky. I should have done so much more_, his guilt reminded him. "There's no reason to thank me, Michelle. I'm just happy Tony's okay. That you're okay, that everything worked out."

"Yeah." Only then did she become aware of the music and the noises in the background. "Where are you?"

"Oh, it's a bar in D.C. Look, I'll call you back tomorrow, okay? I can't really hear you that well." he said apologetically.

She understood, and she had other phonecalls to make before Tony woke up. So she wrapped up the call quickly. "Sure, Jack. Take care."

"Yeah, you too."

They both hung up and Jack slipped his phone back in his pocket. "Tony's wife." he explained to Audrey, not sure how much of the situation she recalled.

"Michelle Dessler? Yeah, I remember. Tony went to prison for her."

Jack nodded. "He went out of CTU to save her. And then that bastard Hammond put him in prison on treason charges. He ruined their lives."

Audrey noticed Jack's face getting a rougher, angry expression. "Yeah, you mentioned that in the debriefs. That's why you assaulted Hammond."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Yeah."

Now Audrey sighed deeply. She took Jack's hand, looked him in the eye and when she was sure he was listening, she said, "It's behind us, Jack." then paused for a few seconds. When Jack averted his eyes from hers in response, she asked. "So how's Tony doing?"

Jack took a breath, calming himself down, before raising his eyes again and replying. "He's still in recovery, but he pulled through. Should be going home soon."

"That's good." Audrey smiled. Like to a child that needed guidance, she said in a soothing tone: "And now, let's just enjoy ourselves, okay?"

Jack paused for a little while. He knew what Audrey meant. She wanted him to face the future, not the past; wanted him to be her partner, not an operative, at least for the night. _Face the future_. he thought to himself again.

After all the tough calls he had had to make in his lifetime, Jack figured that at this point in his life, this particular decision was an easy one to make. He looked at her, smiled slightly and replied, somewhat solemnly: "Yeah." 


	6. Home, Sweet Home

**A/N: **Hey guys, thanks for the wonderful reviews, keep 'em comin' ;-). Someone commented the last time that there was quite a bit of Jack and Audrey in the last chapter - well, don't worry about it. From now on, it's Tony, Michelle, and Tony and Michelle. Enjoy :-)

* * *

**Day One **

**Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Tony's room**

Standing by the window in his hospital room, Tony, wearing blue jeans and a dark cherry colored shirt, was just gingerly putting on a black jacket when he heard someone enter. He turned and saw familiar brown eyes, surrounded by silky smooth skin that was partly hidden under luscious brown curls that he loved so much; they had always been so distractingly attractive to him.

"Hey." he greeted Michelle in his usual way. She was wearing tight black jeans and a light blue top that perfectly fitted her body and revealed just enough naked skin for him to remember what a beauty he had for a wife. This look would easily have driven him crazy if he had had the strength to nourish dirty thoughts at this time. He had the feeling that she was going to do her best to make him comfortable and at home instantly and he was already thankful for that.

"Hey." she smiled to him, "Ready to go home?" she asked, approaching him. She couldn't wait to get there, couldn't wait to be husband and wife again, couldn't wait to give him whatever he needed so that he could feel better soon.

"Yeah." he said, wrapping an arm carefully around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "I don't think I can stand to spend another day here." he continued, sick and tired of being confined to a bed for the last few days that he remembered.

"Neither can I." she answered honestly. The white room had become her second home since they left the Division clinic, too, except it felt nothing like home. "Come on. The nurse is waiting outside." She held him by the waist, supporting him, and slowly began to walk him to the door.

"I can walk, you know." he said, somewhat defensive but not angry. And certainly not angry at her, just frustrated with his own weakness and guessing what was next.

Michelle didn't reply to his comment directly, she knew him well enough to understand his reluctancy to whine. "Just enjoy my company." she smiled.

"I am." Tony said sincerely, and they reached the door quickly.

Opening the door, as expected, there was a wheelchair waiting next to the nurse. Tony gave a sigh, knowing that if he wanted to get home he had to swallow his pride. "Did you get the paperwork signed?" he asked Michelle, having gotten the painkillers and instructions for home care from the nurse already.

"Yeah, we're good to go."

"Let's go home, then." he sighed, reluctantly sitting down in the wheelchair and waiting for the nurse to start pushing it towards the exit. While the wheelchair moved, Michelle, walking by his side, held his hand, and Tony kept his eyes straight, doing his best not to look weak or in any way like he really _needed_ this chair. He hoped anyone who saw him would understand that; no, he honestly hoped no-one he knew would see him like this, looking this vulnerable, this helpless. Luckily, as he was being pushed down the corridors he realized with relief that everyone was too busy or too preoccupied to look at him, and even if they did, it was nothing unusual for a hospital. Still, he only relaxed as he and Michelle were out of the building and he was allowed to walk to the car, gradually beginning to feel a little freedom. Neither he nor Michelle bothered to look back.

The day outside was finally sunny again, contrary to the rain of the past days, and it was quite warm. The bright sunlight was somewhat blinding in the beginning, but Tony's eyes pretty soon adapted to it and he looked around, noting a few trees around the parking lot, scattered people here and there, an old woman walking her Yorkshire Terrier who was just about to raise his leg by a water hydrant when she pulled him away. The dog allowed her to redirect him as if he didn't mind. There would be another opportunity. Tony inwardly chuckled at the sight and reaffirmed his hold on Michelle.

As he spotted Michelle's car in one of the parking spaces, however, a strange feeling washed over him. Yes, they were about to head home, and he had began to look forward to a life with Michelle again, but he wasn't fool enough to think that _home_, at this point, would be an easy place to be at. A memory hit him like a baseball bat, the memory of what life _actually_ had been before the day he went to help Jack in the field. They hadn't been a happy, loving couple in a harmonic marriage. They had been... something else. Something different, largely due to him.

"Here we are." Michelle said as she unlocked the door to the silver Mercedes. "Easy now." As she helped him get into the passenger seat and shortly thereafter drove out of the lot, Tony suddenly, oddly, felt like he was heading back, not forward in time. His only hope was that they would manage somehow, that people could in fact change. Even him.

* * *

The ride home from the hospital was quiet. It was early evening by now and Tony was beginning to feel tired again, what from the medication, what from the anticipation of going home. Neither of them had talked much; Tony had been lost in thought and Michelle, sensing he didn't want to be pushed, just drove and occasionally glanced at him. She was so excited about getting to bring him home; a week ago, she wouldn't have dared imagine this for a minute, for fear of jinxing it. But that was all over now. Tony, although far from completely recovered, was well enough to be released for home recovery and she still had a few vacation days left for the year; she couldn't wait to spend them with him, at home.

Tony took care not to make any sudden moves and the backrest of his seat was lowered so that he could half-lay in it comfortably. As if wanting to make sure she didn't ask him any questions, Tony had turned on the radio at some point, turning the volume up, but while sitting there, he was only staring out of the window, and Michelle knew he wasn't really listening to the broadcast. He took in the surroundings, and knew exactly where they were, which turns she would take when, but all this was happening automatically in his brain, like a pre-recorded movie; his thoughts were elsewhere. Or maybe he was just staring out the window, not really wasting energy on thinking, Michelle couldn't tell.

A little while later, she turned into their neighborhood and quietly uttered, "Tony, we're almost home."

"What?... Uh, yeah." he acknowledged, glancing at her briefly, but then looked out the window again, recognizing the houses of their neighbors. _Jones, Jackson, Reisser, Bryan_, he named them in his mind. He knew that the next house would be theirs. Even if he had been blindfolded, he would have known they were home. There was something about the area that just _smelled_ like home, and he noticed it every time he got back there, especially after a lengthy absence - like if they got back from a vacation, or when he had been released from prison, or now.

Michelle parked her car in the garage, stopped the engine and smiled at him. "We're home."

"Yeah."

After she had stopped the car, she looked at him for a moment. Tony didn't look back at her, but opened the car door carefully and climbed out of the car with a slight grimace, hoping Michelle didn't notice his discomfort. The painkillers were wearing off.

He looked around the garage, taking in its familiar smell and the items there. The paint cans were still on the shelf, the rake and the weed whacker where he had previously left them. The air smelled faintly of gasoline, courtesy of a spill he had managed a couple months before, while filling the tank of the weed whacker.

_Home_. Tony pondered. _How often have I thought that I'd never see this place again_... _or her_. he thought, stealing a side glance at Michelle, who had by now also exited the car and locked it. There had been many, far too many times during his imprisonment. But he had accepted the thought then.

This latest brush with that thought had been different.

_You knew that wouldn't end with confinement. You thought that was it, didn't you _? his conscience reminded him. Not wanting to think about it any further, Tony leaned slightly on the cane in his grasp and walked inside the house itself.

The ground floor consisted of a living room, a guest room and a kitchen, with a bathroom in one of the corners. The living room was an open space with no doors; closest to the kitchen, there was a table with six chairs, all made of Spanish cedar wood, a black table runner with a candleholder on top of the table; in the middle of the room stood a black leather couch with two chairs, rounding a narrow glass couch table that stood on a frosted glass foot, and facing the 30'' flat screen TV on the opposite wall, not far from which a fireplace waited with wood already in it. The rest of the furniture was partly modern, but not too much so. The walls and every flat surface carried photos and pictures of Tony, Michelle, Tony and Michelle, or their families. The door to the guest room was closed, and the kitchen doorway had been altered so that the door was removed and the woodframe redone as if no door had ever been there. In the back of the room, a spiral staircase connected the ground floor and the upper floor, on which one master bedroom and two smaller ones waited, along with two bathrooms.

Tony and Michelle entered the lounge and Michelle again put her arm around him; it was to give him comfort, but also to support him. Unused to walking around, he was still unsteady on his feet, even though he wouldn't admit it. He knew he would spend the next few days mostly in bed again, and he glanced at the stairs, already slightly fearing the climb.

"No, this way." Michelle gave him a gentle squeeze, trying to redirect him towards a guest room on the ground floor. She had rearranged it to accommodate them both, wanting to spare Tony the walk up and down stairs until he could manage it.

"Yeah, in a minute. I need a drink first." Tony replied and brushed her hand and she let go of him. Then he headed to the kitchen. "You thirsty?" he asked over his shoulder, filling the pitcher.

"Good idea. Thanks." she smiled, following him into the kitchen.

Handing Michelle a filled glass, he leaned his back on the kitchen counter and dug the painkillers out of his pocket, taking one. "You're tired." he remarked worriedly, watching her.

"So are you." she replied, sipping the water from the glass.

Mentally, Michelle noted the time, knowing she would have to keep an eye on the number of pills he took. OxyContin was powerful opiate-based medication and there was a danger of becoming addicted to it, which was the last thing she wanted Tony to go through. "Want to give me those?" she asked him, nodding towards the pills. "I'll put them together with the other meds."

"Why?" he heard himself ask before he had a chance to think any further. _Doesn't she trust me?_

Seeing the look in Michelle's eyes, he instantly regretted the question. "I'm sorry." he immediately said. Averting his eyes from hers, he lay the bottle on the counter, giving a sigh.

She breathed in and out once before putting her glass down by the sink and walking to him. "Come on." she said, wrapping an arm around him again cautiously. "Let me help you to bed." she offered.

"All right." he replied quietly, not looking at her, still berating himself for the earlier words.

Again, Tony glanced towards the stairs anxiously, but Michelle led him to the guest room, "Let me show you something. You'll like it."

Entering the room, Tony saw what Michelle had done. She had hung their bedroom drapes on the windows, and put Tony's favorite bedding on the bed, she had even brought down the painting that his cousin had done for him for his 30th birthday and that he loved so much, and hung it on the wall opposite the bed, so he could look at it.

"Sweetheart..." was all he managed to say, swallowing a small lump in his throat. _She's too good for you, Almeida_, he thought with a small inner smile.

She allowed him to look arond the room, standing next to him, taking his hand into hers, gently squeezing it, and whispered. "I thought you'd be more comfortable here than if you had to climb up and down those stairs all the time." She smiled and added: "I hope you like it."

"Yeah, I do. I do." Tony answered, squeezing her side gently. "Thank you." Yet a small shread of doubt and maybe even fear surfaced in his mind. "Will you sleep here with me?" he asked, a note of insecurity in his voice.

Michelle looked at him somewhat stunned at the question, but caught herself. "Of course I will." she smiled, but the uncertainty wasn't gone from his eyes yet. She turned to him, both her arms slid gently to his back and she lifted her head to look at him. "Remember how I always have a hard time falling asleep without you? You don't think I'd be trying that voluntarily, do you?" she asked him, hoping to reassure him and clear his doubts.

Deeply touched, Tony didn't respond but rather cautiously pulled her into an embrace, taking care not to hold her too tightly, but nevertheless enjoying the closeness of their bodies that he hadn't felt that way in many days. He rested his hands against the small of her back, buried his head in her rich curls, breathing her in. He could tell she had closed her eyes and was longing for some closeness, too. They remained like this for countless moments. But gradually, he felt himself getting tired, both because of the painkillers taking effect and because his strength was sapping again. He gave the top of her head a small kiss, then slowly let go of Michelle. He lay down on the bed, patting the empty space next to him.

Michelle smiled, and gladly kicked off her shoes, then sat on the bed, to his left, leaning on one hand. For a few seconds, she just sat there, watching him, lovingly, and brought her free hand to his hair, caressing him. He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch, and after a while, she kissed his forehead and lay down next to him, on her side, carefully placing one hand on his arm, not daring put any weight on his chest.

Tony carefully pulled Michelle close with his other arm, mindful of the fresh stitches, wanting to feel her there. For a few minutes they both just lay there, their eyes closed, until Tony broke the silence. "Michelle?" he said quietly into her hair. He opened his eyes again to look at her.

"Mh-hm?" she uttered, tired, but moved her hand down his arm and then up again to show him she was listening.

"Thank you. For everything."

Michelle lay there quietly for a second or so, touched, yet somewhat surprised at his words. It was not that she didn't want to hear them, but they felt slightly like he hadn't expected her to be there for him, like doing everything in her power to save him wasn't the _only _thing she could have done. She lifted her head slightly; leaning on an elbow, she looked at him, whispering: "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Thank you." he reaffirmed, looking in her eyes.

Tony took a shuddering breath and continued, speaking softly. "During..." He swallowed. "During the interrogation, as it progressed, I knew that Hammond was not giving up before he got what he wanted... When I was in that cell, I... I was ready to give in, one way or the other." He knew she had known that, she had seen it as she entered the holding cell and saw what he was about to do. He exhaled, slowly, his eyes had wandered the room but now he found hers again. "The only thing that kept me hanging on - was you." he said the last words even quieter.

He paused for a moment and while he was obviously collecting his thoughts, Michelle noticed his eyes becoming sad, distant. Then he forced himself to continue.

"When I realized it was you who had come for me... that when it was _really you_ and not _them_ to take me back..." He could not finish the sentence. He could not tell her how raw and deep the memories of the dark of the cell still were in his mind, how things he had managed to somehow suppress were eating away at him again. He sighed deeply but fell silent.

Michelle saw the hurt in his eyes, his voice had quivered slightly and even though it seemed like he had wanted to open his heart to her a little, she understood that he would go no further at that moment. She couldn't pretend that she wasn't just a little disappointed, but the last thing she wanted was to push him. She lay back down, snuggling up to him and held his hand. Kissing his shoulder, she whispered: "You're my everything, Tony." Then she rested her head against the pillow again. "Hammond was a ruthless man; he had his reasons, but even so, his negligence was inexcusable."

Tony had raised an eyebrow already at her first sentence. "What do you mean, was?"

She sighed. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him, but she also knew that he wouldn't leave it alone until she did. "Tony..." she paused and turned to him again, finding his eyes. She could tell by his questioning look that he already guessed what she was about to say. Then she just said it. "Hammond is dead."

"What?"

Michelle squeezed his hand. "He was being transported to Federal when the vehicle was ambushed by terrorists. He was murdered."

"Have they caught the people who did it?" Tony continued, the Federal Agent in him waking up, even though he knew that assassins were rarely caught, at least alive.

"Yeah, one of them died at the scene and the actual assassin was going after Jack next, but Jack took him out first." she gave him the short version. "But Tony, you really shouldn't be thinking about this right now. It's over." she ran her hand through his hair again, attempting to calm him. "Don't waste your energy."

Tony stayed still, sinking into his thoughts again. _Even after everything Hammond did, he shouldn't have been murdered_. he thought.

_Yeah, now he got away with everything_, the other side of his mind jeered.

Something else in his mind added:_ He said he had evidence_.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind of the conflicting thoughts. _If you had stopped Ragen, you wouldn't even have ended up in interrogation_._ If you had tried_..._ none of this would have happened_.

Seeing that he was getting drowsy again, Michelle turned to her side, closing her eyes, still holding his arm close to her. "I love you..." she whispered into his ear and lay there, finally relaxing, hoping for sleep to find them both soon.

"Love you too." Tony whispered back. Seconds later, it seemed, the painkillers pulled him under.


	7. Peace and Quiet

**A/N: **Aaah, our nice fluffy couple at home, don't you just luv'em ;-). I had to put in some fluff into this fic, so here you are, enjoy :-)

* * *

**Day Two **

It was morning before Michelle woke up. She stirred, and the first thing she noticed was the warmth of Tony's body next to her, although it took her a little while to realize that it indeed was him. It was the first time she hadn't slept alone in a week; since Tony woke up from the artificial sleep he'd been kept in after the surgery, she had spent the nights at home, at Tony's insistence. But now, feeling Tony close to her again, Michelle felt relieved; happy for the first time in a long while.

Wanting to prolong the moment, she didn't move, afraid she might wake him up. Instead, she opened her eyes and lay there on her back, looking at him from the side. He seemed peacefully asleep, and she remembered that she hadn't really seen him sleep longer than her in months; actually, she realized, the last time she was the first one to wake up was probably before Saunders...

She instantly ordered herself to stop thinking about that day. She and Tony had both survived yet another nightmare and she wanted to do her best to make sure the nightmare remained behind them.

Some time later, the rays of the rising sun reached Tony's face. He started to stir slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the bright light. The first thing that he actually noticed was the softness of the bed, it wasn't uncomfortable like the hospital beds. _Home, I'm home_, he remembered. The second one was the sensation of warmth that radiated from Michelle. Tony slowly opened his eyes, momentarily squinting against the light.

"Morning." he whispered sleepily, watching her.

"Morning..." she echoed, smiling.

Tony's arm had remained around Michelle during the night. It had fallen asleep somewhat, but he moved his fingers and tugged her shoulder gently, pulling her towards him. "Com'ere." he whispered, needing to feel her even closer. He noticed that they had both slept in their clothes.

Having missed him almost as badly, she willingly obeyed, turning to her side, so that her whole body made contact with his. Then, she slowly raised her head and kissed his shoulder, whispering:

"How are you feeling?"

He was tempted to shrug it off by saying he was fine, but decided to tell her the truth instead.

"I'm still tired. Like I have no strength left." his voice was somewhat resigned and frustrated, he hadn't come to terms with his injuries yet. He tried to change his position to a bit more comfortable one where he could properly look at her, but moaned as it put pressure on his side. "Ahh, son of a..." he cursed the pain flaring up, managing to turn a little.

"Hold on, honey." she reached over to him. "Don't hurt yourself." She helped him lay down again, and instead supported herself on her elbow so he could still look at her without making himself uncomfortable. She brushed a strand of hair from his face, wishing she could help him more, but knew that she couldn't. His body would just simply have to take its time to heal.

"It's the painkillers, they're making you tired." she whispered.

"Yeah, but this can't keep me from living properly." Tony grumbled. "I've had enough of laying still in the hospital." Having always been a bit restless by nature, the thought of continued sleepiness and inability to do things irked him royally. He had always hated having to rely on others, even if the person was Michelle, or maybe especially if it was her he had to rely on. He wanted to be the one to take care of _her_ and not the other way round. "I don't wanna burden ya." he whispered, with a trace of guilt in his voice.

"Oh, honey," she smiled at him, trying to comfort him, knowing this indeed won't be easy on him. "Just give it some time. It'll get better soon."

She gently kissed his lips, her hands tracing his cheeks: "Tell you what, why don't I order us a nice breakfast from anywhere you like, and we'll sit outside in the garden and enjoy it. We'll just both relax today, kinda make it a Sunday, all right?"

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her touch. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good. That hospital food was really starting to get to me."

Michelle smiled at him. "Good. And from tomorrow, if you want to, you can resume your cooking responsibilities." she said through a chuckle, hoping to at least elicit a smile from him.

Tony indeed let out a small laugh. "Is there another option? You won't survive long on cereals and I don't want the kitchen to have to be redone because of a 'small accident'." he replied in a slightly lighter tone, teasing her.

"See? That's exactly what I mean." Michelle put on an innocent face, glad to see him beginning to sound like the Tony she knew. She rolled over to the side of the bed and stood. "I'll be right back." she said to him, beginning to walk out of the room. "Want anything special?" she called to him over her shoulder, first heading to the bathroom. "You choose. I'll call them in five minutes. I just need to get rid of these clothes first."

"Yeah." Tony uttered to himself, guessing she was heading for the shower and cursing the pain that kept him from going in there with her. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine her smooth, silky body underneath her clothes, longing for the day where he would again be able to help her get rid of them.

* * *

It was late afternoon and Tony and Michelle were sitting comfortably in lawn chairs in the garden, Michelle leafing through a magazine and Tony just sitting there, his eyes closed. He heard the birds singing and rustling in the trees, felt the faint wind in his hair. He was quite content in just being home, considering the circumstances. Tony cautiously stretched his legs under the small wooden table and turned his head, trying to get rid of the kinks in his neck, having slept in the same position the whole night. Soon, he gave a small groan as the muscles relaxed for a bit. 

Michelle had missed these cozy, moments, too, and now that she and Tony were finally home, together again, she wanted to do everything to keep her - and his - mind off everything but the present, this moment, right now, and then the next. The sun was up, warming her face from the side. She turned to Tony, saw his eyes were closed, and she hoped he was enjoying the moment too. Slightly, she moved her hand, thouching his arm gently, just wanting to feel him.

Tony jumped slightly at her touch, tensing momentarily but instantly relaxed as he realized it was Michelle. He looked at her and took her hand into his, as if silently apologizing for the reaction.

She smiled at him, hoping that this reaction would decline as time passed. "You look better."

Tony gave a small smile. "I can tell when you're lying….. but thanks."

"You _do_ look better. At least somewhat less tired than yesterday." Michelle replied, squeezing his hand. "The rest will take some time."

_Time_. Tony echoed the word in his mind. So often there had been instances where it felt like there wasn't enough of it, and now it sometimes felt there was too much of it.

For a moment Tony entertained the thought of taking a look at the day's LA Times, but decided against it since the news would probably only serve to remind him of what had happened in one way or another. Instead, he reached for the cane by his side and carefully got up, tugging Michelle's hand for her to accompany him.

She stood, throwing her magazine onto the lawn chair. "Going anywhere special?"

"No, not really. I just want to walk a little. Being in that hospital room was starting to give me cabin fever." Subconsciously it also reminded him of the small, dark, spaces that were holding cells and prison cells, both of which he'd unfortunately spent too much time in. He needed to feel the open space around him again.

"Okay, then." she said and they walked quietly for a bit. Michelle was very happy to be able to take a walk with him again, but on the other hand, she was asking herself how he was doing inside. She knew, having seen him in the holding cell, having seen the marks from the interrogation, the scars on his body, that he would remember, now or later; it scared her, because she wasn't sure what she could do to help him once those memories came.

Michelle snuggled up to him, leaning her head softly on his shoulder. They walked in silence, their steps in sync, passing two or three houses of their neighbors, occasionally looking up into the trees, trying to spot the birds that were singing; but usually, the animals hid themselves too well, following their instincts. Yet very soon, Tony could feel a dull ache again, his body was starting to protest the effort. "Son of a bitch, I feel like an old man. I can't even walk anymore."

"It will get better, Tony." Michelle said, caressing his arm, trying to convey some optimism through her voice. Tony sighed, but then turned back towards their house, obeying his body.

They held on to each other until they reached their house again. One step into their yard, Tony looked at Michelle, as if uncertain of himself. Michelle closed the gate behind them, but noticed Tony's hold on her arm had become a little firmer, as if he was holding her back. He glanced at the grass before him, then his eyes found hers and he stopped walking. Rather than asking him what's going on, Michelle stood opposite him and waited.

"Michelle, I..." Tony began, his voice hardly above a whisper, but he had to take a breath before continuing. "Remember last night..." he breathed in again, then found his words. "Back in that cell, at Division, the one thing I held on to was the thought of you. It's what kept me alive; what kept me from giving up."

Michelle had moved her hands to Tony's waist. She held him, and maybe she was holding on to him as well. Tony spoke very softly. "It's not that I was afraid of dying - I wasn't. It would have been the easy way out, I knew that it'd end the pain."

She knew he meant it, she had seen him with her gun in his hand, ready to end things. She swallowed, so did Tony, and then he pulled her into his arms, leaning his forehead against hers, whispering. "After everything that'd happened, I wasn't sure if you knew just how much you mean to me. I was praying for a chance, I didn't want to go without telling you..."

Tony's voice trailed off. Michelle rose her eyes to meet his, she could see them watering just like her own. She cupped his face firmly. Managing to stay in control of her voice somehow, she affirmed, "I do know. I've always known."

With a single tear escaping his eye, Tony slid an arm behind Michelle's shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace, his mouth seeking hers in a passionate kiss. She willingly reciprocated, her hand finding its way into his hair, pulling him even closer. After a while, Tony broke the kiss momentarily, gasping for some air but soon his lips reclaimed hers, hoping the kiss could convey all those emotions that words were inadequte to express. The next time they broke the kiss, panting for air, Michelle noticed Pat, their next door neighbor come out of his house and walk into his yard. Not wanting to give Pat a private peep show, she pulled back, wiggling out of Tony's arms, nodding a hello to Pat.

"Tony, back home?" Pat called out.

Tony had only now noticed the neighbor. He nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Yeah."

"Good to have you back."

"Yeah thanks."

Joanna, Pat's wife called from inside the house: "Pat? I need your help here."

"Be right there." Pat answered. Turning again to Tony and Michelle, he finished. "Well, you guys have a nice weekend. See ya around soon." and disappeared again behind his own door.

Tony and Michelle went back inside the house. They ordered pizza for dinner because Tony was still too weak to stand in the kitchen, and anyway, when was not a good time for a pizza? They sat in the couch, watching TV for a while, and soon, after Tony cautiously took a shower, retreated to the newly decorated bedroom. Side by side, content and relaxed, they easily fell asleep.


	8. Blood, sweat and tears

**A/N: **you guys getting tired of my notes yet? The thing is, my life has just become incredibly more busy and it's likely to stay that way "for a long time, believe me". The only reason I'm writing is cause there's you out there reading. This means that reviews are more important than ever if you want me to keep this going. So let me know :-)

* * *

**Day 5 **

It was a sunny Los Angeles morning and Tony and Michelle sat in her car, driving home from the Cedars. Tony had had to go in for a follow up check and Dr. Lance, who had been primarily responsible for Tony's case, had only good news for them. Tony was making good progress and would recover completely. Because his spleen had been removed, Tony would have to air on the side of caution somewhat; challenging his immune system by going back to field work, long hours in the rain or cold would never be a good option. But as far as Tony's injuries went, Dr. Lance had even said that Tony would be fit for work in a few weeks, provided he didn't choose a strenuous job. He advised Tony against undertaking anything stressful but told him that if he kept to the instructions, he would be okay. Tony still didn't like the idea of staying home for a prolonged period of time, but the prospect of recovering completely cheered him up somewhat.

Michelle stopped the car at a traffic light, put a hand on Tony's thigh, and looked at him. She smiled, happiness and love in her eyes.

He covered her hand with his own, smiling back slightly. "Thanks for doing this."

"For doing what?" Michelle inquired.

"This. Driving me back and forth, looking out for me, staying home with me. I appreciate it."

"Mhhm... Well, you know." she whispered seductively, "When you get better you can repay me in any way you want." and leaned over to him to give him a kiss which he gladly returned. When she pulled back, Tony bit his lip slightly, feeling a little like an incomplete husband to her right then and there. She glanced at the traffic light. It was still red. Then she added: "But I know you'd do the same for me, Tony. No thanks needed."

Tony just squeezed her hand. He knew she really couldn't afford to miss all the days at work, especially with the restructuring, but she had chosen to do it anyway. Looking at her, he didn't think he could ever express how grateful he was for all that she had done for him; that he was still there.

The light finally turned to green and Michelle drove off. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Jack called yesterday afternoon while you were sleeping. He said he'd call back today."

"Call back? Did he say what it was about?" Tony asked, a bit amazed. Jack didn't usually call back if it was about something trivial or a social call. Those things could always wait.

Michelle glanced at Tony before replying, but then her eyes were back on the road. "Well, he asked how you were doing but he also said he wanted to talk to you personally. He didn't give me specifics."

"Yeah." Tony nodded. "He could have told you though. I think it might be related to that interview I had." Tony replied, not wanting to remember that it was in the morning of the day when things went to hell again.

Michelle knew it was about the job, but Jack had wanted to hear Tony's voice anyway, they hadn't really gotten a chance to talk since that day.

"Well, maybe you got the job." she replied, turning right into a side street. It was almost noon and traffic, as always in LA, was omnipresent. Trying backroads and small streets, Michelle was looking for ways to avoid total congestion on their way home. As she rounded a corner, she felt she had made the right decision. The sidewalk was empty and in the street, there were just two cars ahead of her as far as she could see. She drove slowly because the parked cars on the curb were not allowing her free sight and she always found herself thinking that there could be a cat or a child or just someone or something coming from between the cars and she wouldn't see it in time.

She checked her rear view mirror for a moment and when she turned her attention back to the street, Michelle noticed movement in the corner of her eye. A woman had emerged from a house on the sidewalk to the right. The woman was slim and tall, her hair so blonde it was almost white, and kept in a ponytail. She wore black jeans and a black jacket and carried a sports bag with her. She walked in a way that emitted energy but also some kind of uncanny peace, like she was gliding on a secret path no-one knew. Michelle's eyes widened as she stared past Tony and she almost felt her heart skip a beat. _No, it can't be her. She's dead_. Michelle thought.

Tony noticed Michelle look past him with a distant look on her. Just about to ask her if she was okay, he instead followed her eyes and also noticed the woman on the sidewalk and within a second felt a stab in his chest. He could not see her face because she was walking away from them, her back to the car, but in his memory something put the pieces together. The hair, the outfit, the height; they all matched. It had to be her. _She's still out there, isn't she? They never caught her_. he thought anxiously.

"Michelle..." Tony finally addressed his wife in a low voice, their eyes still transfixed on the woman.

"I know..." Michelle uttered, instinctively stepping off the gas, and her right hand again wandered down from the steering wheel, reaching for Tony. She knew exactly that Tony thought the same thing she did. _Marie Warner_.

She squeezed Tony's hand and slowly drove to catch up with the woman. "It can't be her." she whispered soothingly to Tony, having recovered from the initial shock, guessing that the memories this had evoked in Tony were even worse than her own.

Tony had hardly heard Michelle's words. He felt cold sweat washing over him and his heartbeat quicken. It was like whereever Marie would cross their paths bad things would follow. First George died because of the nuclear bomb she had helped to smuggle into the country and then she blew his cover, exposing him and Jack, almost getting them both killed.

As Michelle slowly drove forward, overtaking the woman on the sidewalk, at the next intersection she took a right turn and they could finally see more than the woman's profile and her clothing. The blonde turned towards the car as it passed by her and then looked away again. Her eyes were brown, her features soft, her face older than Marie's and no evil radiated from her position. Michelle let out a small breath and at the same time the irrational fear that it might be her. Tony, however, could not shake the uneasy feeling and emotions that the look-alike had roused in his mind. He had closed his eyes, and breathed in and out slowly as they left the woman behind them.

It took him a little while to compose himself, and it was then that he actually started to process the last couple of minutes in his brain. After a moment of silence he turned towards Michelle. "How did you know it wasn't her?" he said, shock still audible in his voice, "Apart from the face, it _was_ her."

Michelle sighed inwardly. She had hoped to avoid talking to Tony about certain things, especially the details of Marie's demise. "We got her that day. She's dead." she told him, hoping that this would be enough.

Tony's eyes narrowed, his face maintained hardened features. "Dead, how? Where was she? We had close to no leads on her." he pressed on.

Michelle drove the car onto the curb and stopped it, turning off the engine. She knew Tony would not like what she was about to say and thought it better not to be driving at this point. Sighing briefly, she looked at him and started to explain. "Marie had hacked into CTU's network earlier that day, looking for information on us and Chloe found out. Steve was able to narrow down her location through the ISP address."

"So where was she?" Tony interrupted.

"She was hiding in a run-down apartment complex in Downtown LA."

Michelle paused just to take a breath, and this was time enough for Tony to anxiously utter: "Who went after her?"

Michelle's eyes dropped to her feet for a second, yet her voice was steady. "Jack was in the field, you were helping him, Baker's team had their hands full with the LAMC situation..."

While Tony listened to her explanation, a strange feeling came up inside him, a feeling he didn't like. He had a hunch he knew exactly where Michelle was going with this and he found himself hoping he was wrong. But she proved him right when she concluded:

"I found her. I killed her."

Tony gasped, cold chills running down his back. "You went after her alone? Without back-up? Did it ever occur to you what might happen out there? You should know better than that!" he said, almost exasperated, his emotions getting the better of him. "You're not supposed to go out in the field! I thought we had agreed on that when you went to Division."

She knew he'd react like this. "Tony. Honey, I had no choice! There was no-one else who could have done it." she gave him the standard phrase. But it was true. "I tried to get hold of Jack, but as it later turned out, he'd just gotten the phonecall from Palmer, asking to meet him. I tried to secure backup but even LAPD had no units to spare. I'm sure Marie counted on this and felt safe." She reached for his hand but he pulled it away. She found his eyes and uttered a little quieter. "Believe me, Tony, I wasn't trying to be a hero. All I knew was we had to get Marie to stop this madness."

Tony wanted to be angry at her. She had done something incredibly risky that could have ended tragically. He also wanted to ask her how she'd killed Marie? He still remebered how Jack had killed Nina in CTU all those months ago. It was revenge, not self-defense, and Tony wondered what Michelle's thoughts had been as she caught up with Marie. He believed he knew.

He wanted to be angry with her. But looking at her sitting next to him now, he just couldn't be. So instead, he spoke quietly, even though his voice was still far from calm.

"You still should have waited for back-up. Marie was prepared to let her own family die and almost killed her sister in cold blood, Michelle! She wouldn't have had any trouble killing you." he added, starting to think of all the _what if's_ more and more. "You can't keep doing things like that. The protocols are there for a reason. We both know that." he finished, emphasizing each word.

Michelle now thought back at those moments where she was actually with Marie in that apartment. The standoff could have ended either way, she remembered her heart racing, she remembered wishing she could have gotten back up. But she couldn't and she didn't. She decided to explain to him why she couldn't wait.

"Tony. Listen to me." she spoke softly but decisively, fixing her gaze on his eyes. "I wanted to take her in for questioning. Back up, Jack, LAPD, I thought of all that, but nothing worked. And yes, it was dangerous, I knew that. But then I remembered my brother, his children, all those people who could die if Marie's group launched any more attacks like the one on the LAMC - and I knew what I had to do."

She could see her words getting through to him when he looked away from her. She touched his arm, her voice, almost a whisper, said: "We both signed up to protect the people of this country - not ourselves."

Tony glanced at her again from the side. For a moment he thought she was referring to his decision to save her from Saunders, that she was telling him he'd made the wrong call. But before he could reply, his cell phone rang. He hesitated a second, but then dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID. He knew who it would be anyway.

"Almeida."

"Tony, it's Jack. How're you doing?"

Tony cast a glance at Michelle, sighed, and then answered. "Hey, Jack. They said it's healing nicely. I just have to take it easy." _And try to avoid getting a cold if I wanna live._

"Good. I'm glad. That's real good. Look, I'm sorry I couldn't come to see you yet, this job is what it is. D.C. isn't around the corner, unfortunately, and I can't just leave."

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it." Tony wanted to thank Jack for his part in saving his life but now was not the right time and he wouldn't do it over the phone anyway. He figured Jack would know, even if the words were never spoken.

On the other hand, Tony realized he was not unhappy about the distance between them. Seeing Jack's face and scars that Jack had without doubt carried from Ragen and Morgan would have the same effect on Tony as the Marie Warner lookalike had just had: it would bring back memories; memories that Tony was determined on working hard to surpress and never let surface again if he possibly could. He let out a small sigh while turning away from Michelle.

"Yeah." Jack paused very briefly, then changed the topic. "Listen, Tony, Michael called me the other day. Said he'd been trying to reach you about the job. He has something for you if you want it. I told him you'd call him back."

"All right, thanks Jack. I'll call him in a few days and see what he has in mind."

"Tony, call him soon. He hasn't heard from you in more than two weeks. Don't let this slip away."

"Yeah, I'll call him." Tony was about to finish the conversation, when he realized there was something he needed to know. Looking out of the window, he asked quietly, as if trying to keep his words off the record. "Uhm.. Look, Jack. What exactly did you tell him?"

Tony heard footsteps, assuming Jack had walked to the side of a hallway, then Jack lowered his voice in response. "Just that you had helped me on a case and got injured. That you were in hospital. Couldn't go into confidential details, and I didn't want to say anything you wouldn't want him to know. How much you tell him about what happened is up to you."

"Yeah ok. Thanks."

"Sure." Someone called Jack's name from a distance. "Look, Tony, I gotta go. Glad you're all right. Take care."

"Yeah." The line went dead.

When Tony hung up, Michelle waited just another second, unsure if he was finished discussing the Marie topic, but as he said nothing, nor looked at her, she started the car, heaving a sigh, and they continued on their way home.

* * *

**Night 7 **

It was a stormy night outside. It wasn't raining, but the wind was strong and carried the branches easily from the ground. Trees obeyed its force and bended in sync with each new blow. A cat emerged from underneath a bush, obviously having decided the constant motion annoyed her. Her eyes reflecting back the little light there was in the street, she quickly ran across a lawn and disappeared under a parked car. The light in front of the house where the car stood was broken, wrapping the entrance in complete darkness. On the ground floor, the blinds were down. Inside one of the rooms slept Tony and Michelle. The digital clock in their temporary bedroom showed three numbers: 3:11.

Michelle was curled up on her left side, motionless apart from her breathing. Tony lay on his back; while the wind caused noise and mess outside, something was obviously causing turmoil inside him, too. He started to shift restlessly in bed, his movements waking up his injuries. As the pain intensified, it came into Tony's dreams with a vengeance.

It was dark around him, he felt himself restrained and unable to move. He tried to look around but saw nothing. He felt his wrists hurt, fiery pain in his chest, in his stomach. It felt like there was nothing but abyss around him and in genuine panic, Tony quickly realized he was back in the interrogation room at Division, cuffed to the pole, kneeling on the concrete floor. Suddenly, lights were turned on and his eyes ached, he wanted to close them tightly but couldn't, for fear of what would happen if he did. He looked around, fighting the ache.

Hammond, Knoll and Burke stood in the room. Hammond's arms were crossed, Dr. Burke had obviously turned on the light, since he was standing right by the light switch. Knoll held a taser in his hand and stood by the metal table in the middle of the grey room where time meant nothing.

Tony looked down at his body. The cuffs were cutting into his wrists, his gun shot wound was bleeding, blood seeping through the dressings, his shoulders ached viciously from the awkward position he'd slumped into when his strength left him, his broken ribs burned like another fire. He knew Knoll had tasered the gun shot wound before because it still throbbed painfully. Fearing another shock, Tony pleadingly told Hammond. "No, stop. Why are you doing this again? Michelle got me out. This stopped!"

Instead of Hammond, it suddenly was Burke who laughed and then replied. "Really? Do you think you'd be provided any medical care before you've told us everything? I'm just here to make sure you don't die before that."

Tony fell to his side and closed his eyes. _He lied to me. He was never going to help me_. He wanted to die. Before he had the chance to gather any strength, he felt Knoll suddenly pull him up and hit him with the taser again. This time, it was his chest. Tony struggled and screamed but the pain seemed neverending.

"Just tell me what I'm asking you and it will stop." Tony heard Hammond say from above him as the pain eased slightly.

While trying to regain his breath, agonized at the thought of going through it all again, knowing that telling Hammond to let him go won't get him anywhere, Tony gasped. "Where's Michelle? I need to talk to her."

Hammond crouched down to look Tony in the eye and replied: "You're a _traitor_. Michelle _doesn't care_ what happens to you. You think you'd be here if she did?"

While Hammond walked away, Tony, devastated, slumped down to the floor again. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. _No, no. This can't be happening. Not her, too_.

Tony heard Hammond talk to someone at the doorway at the far end of the room and lifted his head. It hit him worse than the taser had hurt when he realized who it was.

"Michelle! Michelle!" Tony screamed, but she didn't react. She said something to Hammond, smiled, even touched Hammond's arm with her hand, then turned away without so much at honoring Tony with a glance.

Hammond closed the door. He crossed his arms again, a malicious grin on his face, and addressed Tony again. "See?"

The pain at this realization was even worse. _I'm not getting out of here before _he_ says so. Oh, God. No... _

Her eyes still closed, Michelle suddenly found herself awake in bed and at first didn't realize why she had woken up. Usually she slept through the nights, unless something was bothering her and she couldn't fall asleep. But once she did, she wouldn't wake up until the morning. Through the darkness, she felt movement next to her and then heard Tony's voice scream her name. Startled, she sat up in bed and leaned over Tony. He was covered in sweat and looked like he was trying to fight someone in his sleep.

Michelle gently touched his arm, not wanting to scare him, but all the same, wanting to wake him up, make the nightmare go away. Softly, she called out to him. "Tony? Tony, sweetheart, wake up."

In his sleep Tony felt the touch on his arm but recoiled away from it, trying to make the pain go away. Then through the haze, he heard Michelle call his name and as he realized it was her, the dream suddenly vanished. Finally opening his eyes, he could make out her face hovering above him in the darkness. "Michelle?" he said in a small voice, the nightmare still very vivid in his mind.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It was only a dream." Michelle whispered to him, moving her hand up and down his arm gently. Tony was shivering, and she turned on the small lamp by the bed. It gave just enough light for reading or for chasing away bad dreams - at least she hoped so. She smiled to Tony, moved her hand into his hair and inched closer to him. "It's okay, it's over..."

Tony leaned towards her and closed his eyes, hoping her touch would help banish the troubling thoughts, words and deeds from his mind. "I was there again… I was there. It never ended." he whispered quietly, his voice breaking. "I was..."

"Shh... It was just a dream." Michelle whispered again, then kissed him softly on the forehead. She lay down next to him again and put her hand on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. It was still beating fast, but more and more, Michelle felt Tony relax a little bit at her touch. They lay there for a couple of minutes, then she asked him: "Want to tell me more? If it helps."

Normally, Tony would have said no. He struggled with himself. He didn't want to burden Michelle needlessly and above all, he felt that _he_ should be there for _her_ if she needed him, that _he_ should be the strong one, not the other way round. And he thought that he _was _strong, normally, but these past weeks had driven him closer to the abyss again. And now, this venturing back there in the dream was simply too disturbing for him to just bury... So he decided to tell her.

Before he could, though, he had to take a breath, regain control of his voice over his loud heartbeat. Then he whispered. "I… I was in the interrogation room again. With Hammond, Knoll and Burke. I knew this couldn't be real, I tried to tell Hammond. You had come for me, you had _saved_ me. Hammond didn't speak but Burke did. He said he wasn't even going to help me. That he.." Tony stopped for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before he was able to continue. "He was there only to make sure I didn't... die _before_ they got what they wanted."

Michelle shuddered at the thought, at his words. She could only imagine how Tony must have felt while feeling like he was actually_ living _through the dream. Softly, Tony spoke on:

"I pleaded with them to stop but nothing helped, they just continued. It was bad. I was there, it was real... I knew I couldn't get Hammond to stop so I told them I wanted to speak with you. But Hammond... He said you didn't care." Tony's throat tightened, he had to pause for a second.

Michelle softly kissed his shoulder, but didn't interrupt. When he spoke again, Tony's voice was even softer. "After a while, I heard him talking to someone at the doorway. It… it was you. I tried calling out to you but you didn't hear, or you didn't _want_ to hear." Tony paused again. Saying the next words was as painful to him as actually imagining the events of the dream: "You went away." he then said barely above a whisper, tears starting to run down his cheeks. Ashamed, he tried to turn away from Michelle, but his injuries reminded him of his condition and he only turned his head away instead.

Michelle tried to swallow down a lump in her throat, as she propped herself up on her elbow. Wordlessly, she gently turned Tony's head back towards her with the palm of her left hand. It broke her heart to see him like this again and her eyes mirrored the pain inside her. She didn't quite know what to say, how to make him feel better, she didn't even know if she could. She just hoped that her presence and silent support would do the trick. She understood that his dream brought up again not only the pain of the interrogation that he had been through, but also the issue of trust. Michelle vividly remembered how scared Tony had been when she had come into the cell with Burke to get him out, how little he had been willing to trust anyone, even her, back then. They had actually broken him. Completely. Guilt had been nagging at her ever since.

Michelle's lips softly planted a kiss on Tony's and she remained like this for a second longer than necessary. As she lifted her head again, Tony could see tears in her eyes, too. She sniffed and with both her thumbs wiped Tony's tears away. "I'm so sorry..." she whispered.

"What for?" Tony whispered back, a little surprised.

"I'm so sorry..." she began but had to wipe away her own tears now before continuing. "I'm sorry I walked away on you in your dream. I'm sorry I didn't get rid of Hammond hours earlier. I'm sorry I didn't question what he was doing before he even took you into custody. I'm sorry I couldn't save you earlier. I'm sorry I got kidnapped by Saunders. I'm sorry you had to commit treason for me-"

Tony moved his head in disapproval, having a hunch her list could go on for a while. Trying to comfort her, he lay his hand on her arm, about to interrupt her, but she continued. "No, it's true. If _that _hadn't happened, none of this would have. If I had been a little more careful..."

Her voice finally faded, and she buried her face in the pillow next to Tony, crying. She couldn't articulate any more words, but her thoughts kept up the _if onlys_ in her mind. _If I had been more careful, you wouldn't have committed treason, you wouldn't have gone to jail, Hammond wouldn't have suspected you this time around, there would have been no interrogation, you wouldn't be tormented by memories, we wouldn't be where we are right now. _She was ashamed of breaking down when she had actually wanted to support him, be strong for him, but it was clear the past had more in store for them than they were both aware of.

Carefully Tony turned to his uninjured side. "Come're." he whispered and pulled Michelle into his arms. The movement still elicited pain but he ignored it. The last thing he had wanted to do was to make Michelle feel guilty. She still cried silently, her head buried at the crook of his neck. "Hey, shhh, it's okay." Tony whispered to into her hair. "You did everything you could, Sweetheart, I know that. If it wasn't for you I might not even be here right now." he continued gently and pulled her even closer against him. "I love you."

To Michelle, Tony's soft whisper had always had some therapeutic quality to it, and this time was no different. It seemed to build a protective layer around them both, like a safety bubble of some sort. In his arms, she felt comforted, safe and loved. They say that the chemistry between two people has to be right, well, theirs always felt like a chain reaction; the atoms just fell into place, to build the most stable compound with the energy minimum. Tony had always had the ability to do that, calm her down using nothing but his voice. He kept cooing to her, his voice and close embrace gradually did their job and within minutes, the uproar inside her dissolved into nothingness.

Finally, Michelle lifted her head, wiped away her tears, and attempted to smile slightly at him. Tony didn't expect what she said next.

"Will you forgive me?"

Tony's hand was playing with a curl of her hair. He smiled back and looked her in the eye. "There's nothing to forgive, Sweetheart." he said, kissing her forehead. His own guilt at his behavior after prison didn't allow him to even think he had any right to judge her. "You don't need to ask for forgiveness. You don't owe me an apology."

Michelle knew exactly how Tony felt but still she needed to know that they could get past their mistakes, someday, somehow. The look in her eyes became even more pleading, but as he said nothing, she looked away.

Tony sighed, understanding. "But if just hearing it helps, the answer is, yes, I do."

Michelle whispered a "Thank you." and snuggled against him.

They lay back down, Tony letting out a slight moan as he changed position again. Michelle closed her eyes, found the light switch, turning off the reading lamp again, and just before she drifted back to sleep, she said, sleepily, "I love you so much."

"God, Michelle... You're my life."

Tony closed his eyes. He noticed Michelle slowly falling asleep next to him, but before he allowed himself to try and do the same, he wondered how the pain in his body could get so intense again, so intense that it dragged him right back to the interrogation. He didn't remember it being as strong the previous nights. He hadn't had any bad dreams nor had his sleep been interrupted or restless since he'd come back from the hospital.

Michelle's breathing was the only thing Tony concentrated on, now that darkness was around them again. Tony lay quietly for a minute, his eyes open, and wondered if he should take a painkiller. He turned on a flashlight which he kept next to the be and shone it at the prescription bottle of OxyContin on the nightstand, just to check the dosage. The prescription was for two pills a day and he turned the flashlight off again. The medication was very strong and he'd been told that its effect lasted for eight to twelve hours. It generally wore off somewhat during the night but had still been strong enough the previous nights to let him sleep through.

Tony sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to fall asleep. He really wanted a pill, but knew it'd be a bad idea. How come he felt his injuries this strongly now? Then he remembered. He had woken up around five last morning thanks to inconsiderate neighbors, and took a painkiller just then. Him and Michelle had gone for a walk in the afternoon. He had really wanted to be able to walk a little longer than the length of three houses, so he had ended up taking the second pill of the day just before going out, earlier than he should have.

So even though the pain was now back, with a small sigh, Tony decided not to make the same mistake again and tried to fall asleep without taking another pill, despite the pain. He also decided to make sure the painkillers always lasted him for the night.


	9. The Visitor

**Day 10**

It was late afternoon and everything was quiet. Michelle sat in a chaise in the living room. She wore comfortable blue jeans with a yellow sweater, and had a photo book in her lap, which she was slowly leafing through.

One photo showed a dark-haired man in his forties, a tall, red-haired woman at his side, both of them smiling from ear to ear, a twin stroller in front of them with two babies in it, who couldn't have been older than about six months. The photo on the opposite page showed the same family now holding the twins; the mother was pointing at the photographer, as if telling the baby to smile for the camera. The baby she was holding had turned its head vaguely to the side, but the one in its father's arms didn't appear to be as happy with the photoshoot and looked like it was about to start screaming. The heading for the photographs read: _Emilio, Heather, Carmen and Clara on Heather's 35th birthday_.

Michelle smiled at the pictures and lingered, thinking how easily even a moderately computer-literate person with some time on their hands could use internet and digital photography to produce a printed, professional-looking photo book. The days of three-inch thick photo albums, tediously put together, or of hundreds of photos laying around in boxes in the attick appeared to be truly over.

She looked up from the photos and at Tony. He was stretched out on the couch to her right, covered by a green-blue checkered blanket, and slept. He had fallen asleep sometime after lunch and though he had woken up once very briefly, the sleep had quickly consumed him again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Michelle lay the book on the glass coffee table in front of her and, briefly glancing at Tony to see if the ringing had woken him up, but didn't see him stir. Reaching the door, she looked through the spy, then, with a smile, unlocked the door and swung it open.

Behind it stood a man in his late sixties. He had aged well, had thick grey hair, brown eyes and wore comfortable black slacks combined with a sweater of the color of a christmas tree. A dark grey jacket protected him from the slight rain that had set in that afternoon, but he carried no umbrella. The man's eyes were deep and expressive, with thick grey eyebrows adding to the effect. His elegant eye glasses suggested he was well-educated, his posture revealed strength and energy were his closest associates, the lines on his face betrayed the fact that his life had not been free from worries, yet the laugh lines around his eyes uncovered his lively, joyous side. He had a travel bag with him that he had set to the concrete steps outside the entrance, and stood upright, smiling as the door opened.

"Hi Enrico." Michelle said through a smile, glad to welcome the visitor.

"Michelle!" he exclaimed and moved to give her a hug which she gladly returned.

Soon, he pulled back, but his hands were on her shoulders. "Oh, let me look at you, you look so good. I haven't seen you in such a long time."

"It's been a while. Come in." she replied wearily. It almost sounded odd to her ears that someone would tell her she looked "so good", when she had gotten used to hearing and thinking of herself as "worried" or "tired", but it was a welcome change.

"Thanks." she replied, reaching for his travel bag but Enrico took it from her, saying, "No, no, that's okay. Thanks. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I allowed a pretty girl like you to carry an old man's bag?" he remarked, smiling, and instead put an arm on Michelle's shoulder as they walked into the house.

Michelle just smiled in return, and in a certain way was glad to have someone else in the house for a while.

"Uhm, I parked the car just to the left." he turned, pointing through the still open door to a navy blue Pontiac outside.

"Oh, yea, that's fine." Michelle smiled. "Got any more luggage in there?"

"Yeah, another bag and a few gifts from the family. Didn't want to scare Tony, barging in like this and with a mountain of luggage."

"Heh, okay. We'll get your things tomorrow."

As the door closed behind them, they walked inside the house, and Enrico set his bag on the floor, he looked around, then at Michelle: "Where_ is_ Tony?"

She nodded towards the open area that was their living room. "He's on the couch. He fell asleep, I don't think the doorbell woke him up. Want to say hi?" she asked, and began moving towards the couch.

"No, not yet." Enrico held her by the arm and added. "Let me ask you something first."

Feeling his hand on her arm startled Michelle somewhat, but only for a second. She stopped and turned to him. "Okay."

Enrico let go of Michelle's arm, his face instantly turning grave, as he silently asked: "How did this happen?"

Michelle let out a small breath, averting her eyes from him for a second. "Which part? Him getting shot by terrorists and surviving one critical surgery or almost having been killed by our own people, ending up in surgery again and escaping death by the breath of a hair?"

She immediately realized she was being unnecessarily sarcastic and brought a hand to her forehead for a second. "I'm sorry... I'm just still having trouble believing all of this ever happened. It's not easy."

"It's okay." Enrico replied.

On the couch, Tony was starting to hear the voices through his sleep. Keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to relinquish sleep just yet, he listened: _Who's Michelle talking to? _And after a while, he asked himself: _What would _he_ be doing here?_

Dismissing the idea of more sleep, Tony reluctantly opened his eyes and moved away the blanket Michelle had covered him with. Still somewhat groggy from sleep he carefully started to sit up on the couch and called out: "Dad? Is that you?"

Enrico and Michelle exchanged a quick glance before he gently squeezed her hand, then turned towards his son. "Sí, estoy yo." Then he walked towards him, a friendly smile on his face. "Antonio..." he said, almost choking on the word.

"It's Tony." Tony reminded Enrico. His parents had given him a Hispanic name, but when Tony had joined the Marines he had changed the spelling of his first name to Anthony. Most people called him Tony anyway, but some Hispanics, especially older ones, like Pedro, a pleasant guy running a deli store in LA, who had helped Tony arrange his proposal to Michelle years ago. Pedro and his family still called Tony Antonio by habit. Now Tony took the cane from the floor and stood up slowly, turning to face the guest.

Smiling faintly, Tony said, "Hi, Dad. It's been a while."

"Longer than it should have been, don't you agree?" Enrico said and cautiously took Tony in his arms. As he touched his son for the first time in months, he felt his throat tighten slightly at the thought of when they last met. It was shortly after Tony had been released from prison. They, Tony's mother, the two brothers and his father, had all come to visit, but that one visit remained the only one. After that, Tony had asked them to give him time and distance, and they had. Enrico's only contact had been to Michelle, and even that was behind Tony's back. When Michelle told them about Tony's latest streak of bad luck, the whole family immediately wanted to visit, but Tony, who was still at the hospital then, said no. His pride didn't allow him to let his family see him in that state.

Nevertheless, Enrico did well to control his voice when he pulled back, and put on a smile. "How're you doing, muchacho? And don't tell me you're 'fine', I won't buy that this time." he said, pointing a crooked finger at his son.

Tony knew there was no point in pretending, not that he'd wanted to, yet he still felt just a little like a kid caught in a lie. "I'm... I'm getting better. Glad to be home." he then answered, guessing his father remembered how much Tony hated hospitals. He hadn't been fond of them as a child, but after everything that had happened with their family and his own work, things had gotten even worse. "How are you? What are you doing here? How's Mom?" he continued somewhat anxious, changing the topic.

Enrico shook his head slightly. "Can't a father visit his son?" he answered through a smile. "I wanted to see how you're doing, spoil you with a specialty dinner, just _see_ you, for God's sake... We were all pretty worried, as you can imagine." His smile had faded by the time he finished the sentence, then he continued. "As for Mom and me, we're fine. _She_'s fine." he emphasized, knowing exactly what Tony referred to. "Emilio and Sebastián are helping her out when they can, they're sending their love. Mom, too. She came down with a cold a couple days ago, couldn't travel, but she would like to see you. She asked me to let you know."

"Yeah, I'd like to see her too. We'll have to see when things allow that."

Tony felt that this conversation was going in a direction he would rather avoid and was just about to turn it around when Michelle walked in from the kitchen.

"Hey guys, I made some coffee, anyone want a cup?" she called out to them.

"Thanks, coffee sounds great." Enrico replied and turned to Tony. "Come on, son."

"Yeah." Tony nodded, and with his father and the help of the cane in his hand, walked to the table where Michelle set down the coffee cups and a few cookies.

They took their seats, Tony lay his cane on the floor next to him, and Michelle poured the coffee.

"Thanks." Enrico said when offered a cup and eagerly took a sip of the coffee. The scalding liquid felt good after the long trip from Chicago.

Michelle gently moved a hand to Tony's and kept it there, while reaching for a cookie with her other hand. "So, Enrico, how's the restaurant doing?" she asked.

"Oh, it's real fine. I don't know why it took me almost sixty years to open it!" he laughed briefly.

"Yeah, you're a natural." Tony commented, an eyebrow slightly raised, after sipping his coffee. Enrico glanced at Tony with a slight grin, but before he could reply, Tony continued: "Just make sure it doesn't give you another heart attack."

Many years of stressful work had caused Enrico's heart to rebel in his early fifties, but he hadn't let it dictate him how to live. He had been back at work mere weeks afterwards.

"Nah..." Enrico mumbled, while chewing on a cookie, but replied instantly after swallowing it down. "No, really, I feel so much better running a restaurant than as Head of Neurology. Sure, it can get stressful, too, but now, _I'm_ the one in control, you know what I mean? I could still choose to do 80 hours a week if I wanted to, but I'm not forced to. Plus, I get to try out all those old family recipes and create new ones for the menu. You know how much I love cooking."

"Oh, well, it is clear where Tony inherited his talent from." Michelle gave Tony a slight nudge, then smiled, "Maybe you'll honor us with one of your creations while you're here, Enrico?"

"Of course, unless Tony objects." he replied, looking at Tony.

"No, no. Go ahead." Tony replied, still somewhat sleepy, and stuffed a chocolate cookie in his mouth, chewing on it slowly.

"Good, then that's settled." Enrico replied, hitting his palms against the tabletop in joy.

"So, you haven't regretted leaving your job?" Michelle asked.

"No, not for a second since I quit. And Tony's mother is happier this way, too. She now knows that I can come home if she calls me, or that I will stay at home when I'm with her, not suddenly having to run off to an emergency meeting or to see a patient."

"How_ is _Rosita doing?" Michelle enquired. Tony was still chewing on his chocolate cookie.

"She's much better now than three years ago, of course - madre mia, it's almost four years since." Enrico corrected himself. "Luckily, as you know, the stroke left no serious neural damage on her brain, so we're all thankful for that. Physically, she can take care of herself most of the time, but me and Tony's brothers all do our best. You have met them, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I know Sebastián moved back to Chicago after Rosita had the stroke, didn't he?"

"Yes, and he can work from home a couple days a week. Emilio and Heather are quite busy with the twins, as you can imagine..."

Michelle smiled, gesturing to the coffee table where she'd left the photo book. "I was just looking at the photos. They're very cute."

"Yeah, they are." Enrico glanced towards the table, recognizing the book, and continued, after looking back at Michelle. "Anyway, they live close by and help out, too. So we try to make sure Rosita is never alone, just in case she does need someone there. But," and he gave Tony a meaningful look, "the point is, she's a fighter and hasn't let the stroke discourage her."

Tony averted his eyes from both Michelle and his father. He knew exactly his father was speaking to him but decided not to comment. _Yeah, you taught me Almeidas are fighters_.he thought instead. _We don't give up. Must be why it took _mom's_ illness for you to quit your job, your heart attack wasn't enough_.A tense moment of silence passed, before Tony took a breath, and suddenly, everyone seemed to breathe in.

"So, how long are you staying?" Tony then asked, breaking the silence, looking at his father. He knew that Michelle had to go back to work next week, and he had a hunch he knew the answer to his question already.

There was a brief glance between Michelle and Enrico, but Michelle was the one who spoke, somewhat insecurily. "Well, I'm sure he's staying until Monday, and after that, we'll see."

"What do you mean, 'we'll see'?" Tony asked, now looking at her. "You think I need a babysitter, is that it?"

"No, Tony." Michelle uttered apologetically, moving her hand gently over his, but he abruptly pulled his hand away, still waiting for further explanation. She sighed, and this time it was Enrico who interjected.

"It's not about babysitting you, son. It's about being there for you, being _with_ you."

"Don't patronize me, dad. I don't take well to that." Tony almost whispered, leaning over to his father. He was about to add something to that sentence but felt a stabbing pain in his abdomen and instead let out a groan, forcing himself to straighten his back in the chair. "Michelle -" he said through pain.

"You want a painkiller?" she instantly guessed.

At first, Tony wanted to reply in the affirmative, but then remembered he wanted to save the medication for the nights if possible, so he just closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her. "No... I just need to lie down." he admitted, still hating the thought of being this weak, yet knowing that pushing things would just prolong the healing period.

Enrico immediately stood and he and Michelle helped Tony up, who was, for once, not fighting the help. The truth was, he couldn't have, even if he had wanted to. The pain was still strong, as if he'd made a wrong move, and while they put him down on the couch again, dread surfaced in his mind that he might have done something to his stitches.

"Want me to call Dr. Lance?" Michelle suggested as she knelt by Tony's side.

"No... I'm fine." Tony said. Changing position had relaxed the pain somewhat.

"Tony, maybe we should go -"

"_He's_ a doctor." Tony interrupted, glancing at his father. He didn't want to see a hospital again in his lifetime. If it meant letting his father examine him, then he'd let it happen.

"I'm a neurologist, Tony."

"Neuro_surgeon_, right?" Tony retorted, somewhat impatiently now. He paused briefly, then finished, breathing shallowly. "Check the stiches, if they're fine, I'm fine." he said, pressing his lips together.

Dr. Enrico Almeida was beginning to crawl to the surface of Tony's father's mind as he finally replied: "Under one condition."

"What?"

"I stay here as long as you need me and you don't fight me on that."

Tony let out a small laugh. He had guessed the condition even before it was spoken. Right now, he knew he had no choice but to admit that having someone around when Michelle went back to work wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Grudgingly, he nodded and uttered: "Fine."

**Day 12**

It was Sunday morning and Tony was cooking in the kitchen. He had a skillet on the stove warming up and a few eggs on the counter. He was rummaging through the drawers, careful not to reach too much, looking for something. Michelle sat to his left by the kitchen table, a coffee cup in her hand, with an amused look on her face, while Tony continued his search.

"You haven't removed anything from here while I was gone, have you?" Tony asked over his shoulder, scanning the kitchen.

Michelle set her coffee cup aside, "Not really, no. What are you looking for?"

"The spatula. It's supposed to be in this drawer." Tony said, again looking through the drawer.

Michelle stood. "You mean _this _flat thing right here?" she asked with a grin, holding the utensil in her hand.

Tony lifted his eyes to look up at her. "_You_ have it? I thought I told you not to touch things in the kitchen, for both of our sakes." he replied with a humorous note in his voice and reached over the table to grab the spatula from her.

"Uh-uh," she hid the spatula behind her back. "That'll cost ya."

Tony gave her a raised eyebrow. "Ah, resorting to blackmail, now, are we? Sorry, Sweetheart, but that won't work." He stepped a little closer and pulled her into a deep kiss with one arm. With the other he reached behind her, easily taking the spatula from her hand as she had her attention focused on kissing him back. Ending the kiss, he smiled against her lips and whispered: "Gotcha."

"Mhhm, that was a delicious starter." she laughed, having expected him to do just what he did. "What's the main course?"

"Well..." He kissed her one more time. "You'll just have to wait and see." he continued, leaning to her again.

Hearing the butter hissing on the skillet, Tony abruptly turned around, rushing to the stove. "Son of a.." he cursed, moving the skillet from the burner before the butter burst to open flame.

"Sorry." Michelle chuckled.

"Uh-huh."

She watched him work for a minute, sipped her coffee again. Then she remembered wanting to ask him something. "Oh, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you call that guy from the IT company? Michael? About the job?"

"Yeah, I called him."

"What did he say?"

"Said he's spoken to Jack and that he had a job for me at least until next fall. And if things went ok, they could extend it."

"Oh that's great!" Michelle almost jumped from the chair where she'd sat and rushed over to Tony. "Congratulations." she whispered, wrapping both her hands around him, hugging him from behind and gave his right shoulder a kiss. "Did you say when you'll start?"

"In two, three weeks. As soon as I'm able. I didn't really go into details. He seemed all right with it."

"Two weeks? Don't you think that's a little too soon?" she asked in a worried voice, her hands still on his chest.

Tony tensed a little at her question. "Two to _three_ weeks, Michelle. He has a business to run, he can't wait around for me to make a decision." he said, somewhat annoyed with what he thought she was referring to.

She lowered her hands to his stomach. "Yeah, I know that, but in your current condition, don't you think you should wait -"

Switching off the stove, Tony turned towards her, her arms slid from his side. He crossed his arms when she let go of him. "No. I don't think I should." he snapped.

Michelle looked away from Tony in frustration. He stepped away from the stove, continuing. "He's not going to wait around forever, Michelle, he's got other people too. It's not _his_ loss."

_First she was worried that I don't get a job and now she doesn't want me to take one._ He watched her for a moment, a moment Michelle spent thinking about how quickly the mood had changed. She could feel heat rise from the stove, or maybe it wasn't from the burner.

Tony glared at her. "What is it _now_, don't you want me to get a job? A while ago you were pushing me to try and get one, and now you're saying I shouldn't?"

Michelle already regretted saying anything. "No, it's not that. Forget about it." she uttered quietly with a small smile, took a step towards him, slightly touching his shoulder with her hands.

Tony recoiled back from her touch. "No, I'm not gonna forget about it! Tell me. You think I can't be trusted with that, with IT, anymore, is that it?!" he raised his voice, steaming inside, remembering the doubts about her that he'd had in the cell as she came to him.

Michelle's eyes widened in shock. "Tony, don't be stupid." she uttered, hurt. "You've always been one of the best people on the job! I just think you shouldn't rush in, hell, you just got out of hospital less than two weeks ago!"

"I'm going to be sitting by a damn computer, you know that! It's not strenuous." By now, he was yelling. "It's something else! You're using this as an excuse! You could at least have the decency to be honest with me!!"

Hearing footsteps from the stairs, Tony gave her one last scornful look, then turned around and stormed out of the kitchen, passing his father without even acknowledging him. _She doesn't trust me to do it, she thinks I'm a security risk!_ _Son of a bitch, after everything_... _My own wife_.

Tony grabbed his jacket and car keys and walked out of the front door, slamming it shut, the sound echoing through the house.

Michelle remained standing where she was, completely dumbfounded. She wanted to smash something, just to let out her own anger at her stupid words, at spoiling the morning before it really started, but she didn't.

Tony's father walked into the kitchen, in a bathrobe, just having gotten up, probably woken up by the sounds from downstairs.

"What was that all about?" he questioned, looking at Michelle.

Michelle didn't move for a few seconds, she was looking past Enrico, not at him. Finally, she breathed in and sighed loudly. Raising her eyes to look at Enrico for a moment, she left the kitchen. "Nothing."

Enrico, a bewildered expression on his face, watched her hurriedly walk upstairs. Then he heard another door slam shut. Outside, an engine started and a car drove away.

Michelle sat down on the naked mattress and let herself fall backwards onto the bed. The room, since she had moved most of the things downstairs to the guest room, looked empty, hollow, and she was feeling the same way. _Are we already starting to fall into the same pattern again? I can't believe this. I just wanted him to -_

A knock on the door interrupted her trail of thought. She knew who it would be, but said nothing. She just ran a hand underneath her eye discreetly. From the hall, Enrico called out:

"Michelle?"

Silence.

"Michelle, you okay?"

"Yeah."

Enrico nodded. He waited a beat. Michelle remained silent. It was clear she didn't want him to come in, so he didn't. "I'm downstairs if you need to talk." he finally said and retreated back to the kitchen. _This Sunday has effectively gone to hell._

* * *

Tony had started the car and driven away, not really sure where he was going. _Son of a bitch, I don't believe this. I would have thought that after all these years she'd give me a little more credit. But, oh no_. he thought angrily, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. Having cleared one of the intersections Tony decided he wouldn't go on to the freeway, he wanted some peace, he wanted to be alone.

Enrico had gone back to the kitchen and first wanted to finish cooking the omelette Tony had started, then he'd wanted to clean up the mess Tony had left, but then decided against both options, and just made himself a coffee, sat down by the small kitchen table, leafing through the paper.

Half an hour later, he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. Lifting his eyes towards the door, he saw Michelle approach the kitchen. Her eyes were red, it was clear she'd been crying. Seeing Enrico in the kitchen, her first impulse was to turn around. She wanted to be left alone. But a moment later, she realized it would be very rude, so she didn't. She remained standing by the kitchen door.

"Michelle. You okay?" Enrico asked, taking his reading glasses off his nose.

"Yeah. Look, I just need a cup of coffee..."

"Okay, I'll get you one." he said, getting up and moving towards her. "But you just sit down here for a moment, will you. Please."

"No, really, I -"

"Michelle. Please."

Michelle sighed, sitting down in a chair by the counter. Enrico poured her the coffee, brought the cup to her, then sat down next to her.

"What's going on with you and Tony?" he asked.

Michelle looked away, giving a long sigh.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but you've always talked to me. Don't shut me out now. I might be able to help." he pressed on.

Michelle took a long draft from the coffee. She was silent for a few seconds. Then, as if she'd made a decision, she took a breath. "It was nothing, really. Just something about the job."

"Your job?"

"No. He has a job offer he accepted."

"What kind of a job?"

"IT. I just think he's rushing into it; it's too soon."

"And that's it?" Enrico asked incredulously.

"Yeah... Look, Enrico, it's okay, really. Tony's been through a lot lately. I'll just have to try and cut him some slack." she said through a faint smile, even though the dull pain inside her remained.

"Maybe, but you don't have to put up with everything, you know."

Michelle nodded. "I know."

After driving around the deserted side streets for almost an hour, Tony found himself in a bar somewhere in the suburbs of LA. He entered the bar, it was a dimly lit place, and only a couple of people were there in addition to the bartender. He sat down on a barstool as if belonging there, his thoughts still revolving around the same thing. _Does Michelle really think that little of me? Is the shadow of the conviction that strong, that even she doesn't completely trust me? I know what I did, I did it because of her. _

Seeing Tony sit on the barstool, the bartender came over to him. "What are you drinking?"

Tony almost said he wanted a scotch, double, but caught himself just in time. "Uhhmm, a coke, thanks." _Damn, almost. I promised Michelle I wouldn't drink… "Not that you don't want to_... _"_ something in his mind reminded him.

He tiredly rubbed his neck and took a sip of the coke the bartender had brought him. _It wouldn't be a good thing right now anyway. It could kill you, with the meds_. He gave a small self-deprecating chuckle. _Would it really matter if it did_?

* * *

Michelle sat curled up on the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around her. On the glass table before her lay an empty tea cup and the phone. She was alone. The ticking of the clock on the wall was steady and persistent, but she didn't feel enough motivation to leave the room and the sound. Besides, she was still waiting for Tony to come home. 

Tony's father had retreated to his room. The TV was on, simply because he couldn't stand the silence in the house, but he wasn't watching anything. He half sat on the bed, a book beside him, but he hadn't managed to get himself interested in reading. He sat there, thinking. About Tony, about Michelle, and about his own wife, Rosita, back home. After 40 years of marriage, there really weren't that many things that they would fight about; you knew the person you were with so well that fights just didn't solve anything. You learn to live with the zircons as well as the real diamonds of the relationship, and stop wanting to change things around. You accept the other as they are; you trust them - or not - as they are, and nothing much will become any different in the future.

Tony and Michelle, Enrico thought, had yet to come to that point. Everyone had their problems they needed to overcome, but if he was honest, Enrico had to admit that dealing with the kind of troubles Tony and Michelle had been through was not on the everyday troubleshooting list of most other couples.

There was the sound of a car arriving outside the house, then a car door was slammed shut. Michelle looked towards the door, just as Tony entered. He threw the keys on the sideboard, as usual, carelessly hung his jacket on the coat rack and kicked his shoes off his feet. As he emerged from the small hallway, his eyes fell on Michelle, but just for a second, before he turned his head away. _Damn, you just had to sit right there, didn't you._

"Tony." Michelle said quietly, wanting to get him to look at her. He didn't. Instead, he kept his head demonstratively turned to the other side while walking across the room towards the stairs. "Tony, stop." she said again, pleadingly this time, wanting to smooth things over.

Ignoring her completely, Tony took the stairs in twos and headed to the bathroom. Michelle heard water flow for a few seconds, then steps, and a door closed, as Tony disappeared in the master bedroom.

Michelle had wanted them to move their things back upstairs during the day, but she hadn't felt up to it after the silly way the morning had started. She had also politely refused Enrico's offer to help. So the bedroom, as Tony entered, felt only halfway finished. Fittingly, he thought, since their relationship felt halfway finished, too. Still, Tony grabbed a book from the shelf, opting to stay there, on the unmade bed, the naked mattress, in the room with now bare walls and without drapes on the window instead of going downstairs to the temporary bedroom Michelle had arranged. That room would feel too furnished, too ordered right now anyway. More importantly, the way there would lead him through the living room again, which he wanted to avoid. Tony threw a pillow against the wall, let himself fall onto the bed and opened the book.

* * *

Tony was still lying on his back on the bed, reading a Tom Clancy novel. He would have gone downstairs to the study to read or to check a few things on the internet but Michelle was still downstairs. And he didn't really want any company at the moment. 

It's been hours since they last spoke, and Michelle didn't feel any better than in the morning. But she knew that tomorrow, she would have to go back to work and she didn't want to leave things like this. She also thought it was time to try to salvage what was left of this Sunday, which wasn't much. But they could at least have a nice evening. Maybe.

So, she went up to the bedroom, opening the door slightly - she didn't want to knock, it was her room, too, after all - but she remained outside for the time being. "Tony?" she said softly.

Tony heard her but said nothing. Nor did he glance at her. He didn't expect an apology, but he didn't want to hear her explanations either. _If that's how she sees things, fine_._ She's entitled to that_.

"Tony, do you mind if I come in? I think we need to talk."

"What is it?" he asked tersely, not lifting his eyes from the book.

Michelle walked in, closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed, taking care not to sit too close to Tony, guessing that he'd attempt to shift farther away and she didn't need the rejection right now. She smelled smoke on him, the word _bar_ crossed her mind, and at first she wanted to ask him where he'd been, but knew that would be the wrong move. Instead, she swallowed and sighed. She didn't in all honesty think she really _owed_ him an apology, but knew that someone had to make a start. Clearly, it wouldn't be Tony.

Calmly, she began, "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to imply you weren't able to do the job. I was, I'm just worried about you rushing into the stress too soon, Tony, that's all, believe me."

"You don't need to explain. I know what you meant." _Even if you didn't say it aloud. _Tony barked, now glaring at her.

"No, Tony. I don't think you do." she replied softly, not intimidated by his gaze. "Look, I know you need to get back to work as soon as you can, I get that, really, I do. And I know that after everything that happened, you must have a hard time trusting people again." She shifted on the bed so she was turned towards him with the better part of her body. "What Hammond did to you was an outrage and I understand how you can feel mistrusted and doubted. But honey, I'm your wife. I'm on your side. I've always been." _And it breaks my heart to see you doubt that_.

Tony put the book away and turned more towards her. "Then why don't you trust my judgment on this?" he asked sincerely, his voice normal again. "I know I can go to work in two or three weeks. I'm not doing anything before that that would jeopardize it."

"I do." she said, slowly reaching for his hand. "Maybe I was scared, I don't know. Maybe I'm being overprotective right now. But seeing you injured like that, not knowing if you'll make it... I guess I just don't want you to get hurt again... I really wasn't sure if you're giving yourself enough time to recover. I'm still not sure." she admitted. "But if you think it is, then I'll support you and I'm happy for you." she finished with a slight, insecure smile.

Tony took her hand and caressed it with his thumb. He really hadn't remembered how hard all this must have been on Michelle, too. _Overprotective, some could accuse me of that, too_. he thought dryly, thinking of everything that had happened, what people had said in his trial, both for him and against him.

"Yeah. Look..." he finally said, nervously rubbing his cheek with his other hand. "I'm sorry I put you through all that again. I know it wasn't easy for you." _I just knew that I couldn't let Jack handle this alone after he asked for my help_.

"You don't owe me an apology." she replied, and paused just for a split second.

Putting his hand on her arm now, Tony tried to contradict her. "Yes, I do. I should have -

"It doesn't matter." she interrupted. "We both did what we had to do." She concluded, remembering their earlier discussion about Marie Warner. "I'm going back to work, as are you. Let's just put our lives back together now." She looked at the bare walls, the mattress, giving a small laugh. "Starting with this room right here."

Tony smiled slightly. She always knew how to break the tension. He pulled her into an embrace, as way of apology for how he had acted. He just held her for a long time before speaking again. "All right." He gave her a kiss and then let go of her, getting up from the bed with her hand in his.

Together, they went downstairs and began to transfer their things back to their actual bedroom. When they had finished, they lay on their (now made) bed, cuddled up against each other for a good hour. Words were unnecessary, they simply needed the closeness and the warmth.

In the evening, Tony allowed his father to make a good dinner - after all, he wanted to make up for the time he and Michelle had lost during the day, and the two of them went for a quick walk while dinner was being made.

At dinner, they all just tried to relax, ate to the music of Eric Clapton from the stereo, and retreated to their bedrooms shortly afterwards. Somehow, the day had exhausted all three of them, and they all fell asleep very quickly.


	10. Back to Work

**A/N: **Hey guys, thanks for your reviews and hope you keep reading :-). Life has a lot in store for our heroes, so be sure to stand by them. Enjoy.

* * *

**Day 13 **

Michelle sighed loudly as the alarm clock went off at six and she hit it to stop it from ringing. Four weeks had passed since she'd last set foot in her office at Division, and if she was honest, she hadn't been missing it, and didn't exactly feel joy at the prospect of going back there again. But as Tony would say, 'it is what it is'; it was her job and they needed her there. Her problem was that she knew Tony needed her even more.

But she couldn't stay home any longer. She had invested all of her vacation days for the year and if she had wanted to keep Tony company any longer, she would have had to take an unpaid leave, except she knew it wouldn't be granted at this point, not with all the restructuring going on, with Hammond gone and everything in a chaos after the latest attacks.

Turning to Tony, she noticed he was already awake. She guessed his own annoyance at her having to go back to work had woken him up even before the alarm clock rang, and that he lay there quietly just to watch her sleep.

Gently, she passed a hand over his arm, and smiled at him. She said nothing yet but her eyes spoke to him; they said, I love you, but they also said, it's time to move on, go back to a normal routine again.

Tony had a ghost of a smile on his lips as he looked back at her. This was the real Michelle; she had her guard down, no mask was covering her emotions. At work she was purely business, she was always calm and collected. But at home she was more relaxed and allowed that guard to drop. Not many others besides Tony had seen her like that and he was glad, no, _proud_, to be in that position. Now he inched closer to her and pulled her into an embrace. He kissed her forehead, his one hand tangled in her curls and the other tracing up and down her back. "Morning." he whispered.

"Morning." she smiled back, looking into his eyes. With Tony around she always felt protected. When he looked at her like that, though, she felt as if he was reading her, like an open book. With anyone else, she wouldn't have liked that feeling, she would have tried to conceal her inside, but Tony was allowed to see her, to _really _see her. She gently pressed her lips on his, taking in their sweetness. When she pulled back, Tony sat up slightly and carefully with her in his arms and rolled them over, gently lowering her back onto the bed, until he found himself on top of her. Her beautiful brown eyes were like opium to him, he'd lost himself in them so many times, and now, while his right hand still played with her hair and his left ever so slightly brushed her breast, all he saw was Michelle's loving eyes calling out to him. More than willing to obey, Tony brought his lips to hers, and Michelle readily opened her mouth as she felt his tongue between her lips, her own desire for him not any weaker than his for her. Intoxicated by her taste, Tony kissed her even deeper, he hadn't felt her like this in weeks and having enough strength in him to feel his wife properly was all the motivation he needed to slowly move his hand down her shoulder, her side, to her waist, not breaking contact with her mouth.

Michelle, although she squirmed and her body quivered at Tony's touch, after a few minutes broke the kiss, panting for air. Tony took a breath, too, but just a second later sealed his lips on hers again, wanting more. She kissed him back, also unwilling to stop, but after a little while, she brought her arms up his back and rested them on his shoulders.

"Mmmmhh..." Tony heard her underneath him, then she gently pushed his head away, breaking the kiss again. Smiling apologetically, she whispered breathlessly, "Tony, I really have to go."

"Call in sick." he joked, kissing her forehead, brushing away a curl from her face.

He loved her too much to even think about having to be apart from her again, even for a few hours. But he was also aware of the reality. Time had passed quickly, and although he had enjoyed having her all to himself all day he realized that the time had come, as reluctant as he was to this fact, to start sharing her with the rest of the world again. But even so, he knew that these moments, the sleepy morning moments, would always be just theirs.

She chuckled slightly, "Maybe next time."

Michelle shifted so she could free her legs from underneath him. Tony let her get up, but he himself fell back into the sheets, watching her collect her bathrobe and put it on (Tony's father could be out there, after all), give him one of her million-dollar smiles and exit the room, heading to the shower.

Michelle was dressed in one of her brown business costumes, the kind that kept up her mask, and kept her protected from emotions while at work - or at least that's what she'd taught herself to believe to make her job easier. She was ready to go and headed for the door, Tony strolling behind her. By the doorway, Tony grabbed her hand, pulling her close into an embrace and a quick kiss. She didn't feel like leaving but she knew she had to. "I'll be late if I don't go now. See you in the evening." she said and let go of him. She smiled at him over her shoulder, then left.

As the door closed behind his wife, Tony stood still for a second longer, then heaved a sigh and turned away, scratching his neck. There she went, back to work and here he was, still confined to the four walls of their home, not knowing how to keep himself busy. He considered going back to bed for a moment, but the thought of lying still yet again repelled him, especially if she wasn't there with him. He glanced towards the kitchen where his father stood, patiently waiting for Tony to look at him.

As he watched Tony and Michelle say goodbye for the day, Enrico saw in Tony his four year old son who couldn't let go of his favorite toy, only he knew that this particular toy was one that Tony would kill for, even die for. He knew he could do nothing to help Tony deal better with Michelle's being away, but he at least wanted to try and distract him.

"Want any breakfast, Tony?" Enrico asked him as Tony's eyes were set on him for a second.

"No, thanks Dad. I'm fine." Tony replied, heading to the couch. He could probably keep himself busy for a while by surfing the channels. Maybe there was a Cubs game or something similarly interesting on ESPN. _She's just at work_, his mind reminded him. _She'll be back_. He knew that it was irrational of him to keep thinking about her not being here, but he couldn't help it. The thought of being alone started to make him more anxious.

"Come on Tony. That medication of yours is strong, you need to eat." Enrico reminded him. "I'll fix us something. Let's eat together like father and son, shall we?" he said, almost pleadingly, missing the closeness to Tony. Of all his children, Tony was the only one who'd moved so far away that a regular weekend visit wasn't an option.

Tony knew his father was right. The antibiotics and painkillers were strong and he really shouldn't take them into an empty stomach. If he didn't want to get sick again, that is. Throwing up would also endanger his stitches and he wasn't going to risk having them removed as soon as possible. More time in the hospital was to be avoided at all costs.

"Yeah, all right." Tony answered after a moment and headed towards the kitchen.

Minutes later, the two Almeidas were sitting at the kitchen table over a warm breakfast. Tony ate in silence, slowly, his appetite wasn't the greatest but his father's cooking was as good as his own, so the food was at least tasty. Enrico sipped his coffee. He knew Tony has always had a hard time letting people in, but it was hurting him inside that he, Tony's father, should be one of the people that were kept outside his son's heart. Enrico remembered what Michelle had told him weeks ago, about how things were at home before the latest terrorist threat happened.

Seeing Tony this quiet and injured pained him, and even more so because he sensed that there was even more hurt inside his son's mind, more than Tony was telling anyone, even Michelle. Enrico, always the strong one in the Almeida family, felt so helpless and he hated that feeling. He had always been the one with all the answers, with the solutions - and that his youngest son would have problems that couldn't be solved was something Enrico was not prepared to believe. He wanted to help, but knew that you can't help someone who doesn't help themselves. Speaking of which...

"Look, Tony..." Enrico began, deciding to start with the man in the mirror. "I know I wasn't always the best father, I was often away, I couldn't always be there for you. But I can be now. If you let me." he said quietly.

Tony gave a small laugh. _What is there to sort out? You got yourself into this situation, no one else_. he thought.

"You suddenly realized that, huh? Too bad it's about ten years too late." Tony replied sarcastically, picking through the food in his plate.

After a moment of silence he lay the fork aside, looked at his father and sighed, rubbing his neck nervously. He clearly wasn't comfortable. "Dad, I can't deal with this right now." he admitted. "I've hardly figured out everything that happened. Just leave it, all right?" he said neutrally.

Enrico's eyes had revealed hurt inside him but only for a second after Tony's first comment; then he brought a hard look to his face even though he felt his hands beginning to tremble and he let go of the knife and fork, putting his hands in his lap. Tony was staring at his own plate and Enrico was suddenly not hungry any more. He didn't feel like going any deeper into the issues right now, either. He knew he'd go right through the roof if they started, so he stood, carrying his plate to the kitchen and mumbled "Yeah."

Tony was still good at reading people, especially his own family. He knew that what he had said had struck a nerve with his father. _Why does this have to be so damn hard? _

With a sigh, he carefully got up from the table and walked after Enrico. "Dad, wait." he called out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." he said quietly from the doorway.

"No, it's all right. I deserve it." Enrico answered, throwing the rest of his breakfast in the bin, not looking up. Anger was quickly getting the better of him, words were no longer subject to his control. "You can't deal with things now, fine... I'm just an old fool, Tony. I mean, you're a grown man, you don't need anybody."

Enrico could feel himself getting tense with every fiber of his being. Ignoring the dishwasher, he let hot water run over the dishes, beginning to wash them. The water burned his hands, causing them to turn red, but it felt like a just punishment. "Geezis, you didn't need us when you got out of prison, and here I was thinking I could just come here and play Father for you again and everything would just be like before. Thought wrong."

He let out a small sarcastic laugh. "_I_ should be the one to apologize to _you_." he said, hurt and sarcasm obvious in his voice.

"What do you want me to say? With everything that's happened -" Tony began.

Enrico shot a glance at Tony. "No, I know. Look, neither of us are that good at this talking game. You were right, let's just leave it."

There was a finality in Enrico's voice and Tony took the hint. _Yeah._ he thought, yet said nothing more. After lingering in the doorway for another second or so, he walked to the living room, dropping into the couch and turned the TV on and the volume up.

* * *

Michelle parked her silver Mercedes outside Division and sat, keys in her hand, staring at the entrance. She could picture her office in front of her, she knew the hallways by heart, most of the people who worked at Division had been there longer than she has, it would all still be familiar when she walked in there. As much as she liked her job, though, she knew that the place would now have a different look to her. She had a fear that three words would keep coming back to her: Tony, Hammond and interrogation. _You have to focus on the work again, Michelle. This can't interfere. You have a job to do here, thinking about all that will just distract you and that's not good, you know that. Pull yourself together this instant!_ she ordered herself, but it didn't work immediately, so she decided to give herself another minute.

Inside Division, Lou Brass was waiting in Michelle's office. He looked at his watch. _She should be here soon_. On the desk were numerous files waiting for her, or rather, files that he would probably have to talk her through, after a month's absence. Then there were applicants for Steve Sheldon's position, and then there was that other position - Brad Hammond's - that had to be filled.

Michelle's absence had been felt at the office, especially since both she and Brad were unavailable from the same day on, but Brass had understood. Somehow, he'd managed to get through a whole month doing two jobs at the same time, but now it was time for normality to come back.

In her car, Michelle took a deep breath, and opened the door. _It's just another workday_. she told herself, even though she knew inside that was a complete lie. Quickly, she ducked into the building, and rushed through the hallways, as if she didn't want to be there long enough to start thinking. Thinking back at running through those same hallways to the basement, to the holding cells, to Tony, on that day. Most likely, she would have preferred walking through them blindfolded or at least with her eyes closed.

Therefore, she was somewhat relieved to enter the main office floor and see the busy staff who were already there. Three workstations were empty, and she remembered one of them was Steve's, who'd quit his job after what happened with Tony. The other two were free, by the looks of it. There were no files or personal items on them, just a phone, computer and a keyboard, ready to use. Some of the people raised their heads to look at her as she walked in. She tried to make it look like it was really just another workday, like she had last seen them the day before. She slightly smiled in response to a "Morning." or other verbal or non-verbal greetings by some of the staffers, then headed up the stairs to her office - or her old office, she corrected herself: she didn't know what decisions had been made in her absence.

She knocked on the door, a male voice invited her in, and she walked inside and to the desk. "Morning, Lou." she said in a friendly voice, closing the door behind her.

"Michelle!" Brass replied with a smile, and stood, shook her hand. "You don't have to knock, it's your office, I was just keeping the chair warm."

She smiled in return, "Thanks."

"Good to have you back."

"Good to be back." she said neutrally, but it was just a professional statement. Nothing about being back was all that good right now. But she had to convince herself that it would be. Soon.

"Take a seat." Brass said, moving away from the desk, leaving the blue office chair free for Michelle, and went to fetch a chair for himself from the other side of the room. As he sat down next to her, he asked: "Is Tony better?"

Michelle nodded, "He is, thanks for asking." Not wanting to go any deeper into details, she changed the subject. "So, can you please bring me up to speed."

Brass understood. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, then held two cards out to her. "Firstly, here are the access codes." he said, and she took them.

"Thanks." she said and thought. _I guess this means I'm keeping my job_. She stored them in a small drawer to her left.

Then Brass continued. "Okay... So, there have been some changes in the past few weeks. After what happened, District wanted us to replace a couple low level analysts -"

"Whom?"

"Sarah Jackson and Jay Whitacker. They worked over in IT."

"Yeah, I remember. So that's been done?"

"Yeah. District wanted it done fast, so that's already accomplished. They're starting next week. You'll find the new profiles in the system."

"Ok." she nodded.

Brass gestured to a pile of files on the desk. "Also, these are the short-listed candidates for a replacement of Steve Sheldon. We've conducted some interviews already, you'll find the results in the files. I didn't want to make any decisions without you on this, so invite anyone you want for a second interview."

"Okay, I'll look into it. Thanks." She was indeed glad that she didn't have to roll it up from the start. Inviting just a few candidates who had already been interviewed once would make it quite a bit easier.

"Oh, and CTU is replacing Annie Bradley after that screw up. She'd failed to notice a remote access to CTU's systems, among other things, so Erin is sacking her."

Michelle remembered. That remote access was Marie Warner. "Do we have a name?"

"Uhm, yeah. Hold on. He's fresh out of NYU..." he looked up the name in a file. "Oh, here it is, Edgar Stiles. Actually, Steve suggested him for the position, said the kid is brilliant. Driscoll has already submitted a request for approval so that's in the pipeline."

Not fifteen minutes back at work, Michelle was beginning to feel like she hadn't been away for longer than a week. And somehow, she was thankful for that. "All right, what else?"

"Well, there are all these files you have to take a look at, I'll walk you through them if you want. But first, I have a question for you."

Michelle shifted in the chair. "I'm listening."

Lou cleared his throat before speaking. "Uhm... I'm sorry if this brings up painful memories, but as you know, we still need a new Special Agent in Charge to replace Brad Hammond."

Michelle managed not to blink at the mention of the name. "Yes, I know."

"I didn't want to start looking before I talked to you about it... You've worked at CTU for years, and you've been here at Division almost a year, too, you know how things work. As Associate SAC, you are a natural candidate for the job." he told her, and continued. "Are you interested?"

Michelle smiled absently. Two years ago, the answer would probably have been yes, but now... What would Tony think if she took over Hammond's job? How would she feel? It would sound like she had profited from what had happened to Tony and she didn't want that feling. Besides, it would mean putting even more hours in, and Tony, and if she was honest, their marriage, too, needed her somewhere else, not in the office. So with these thoughts, she shook her head slightly. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't think I can do that."

"Oh, I'm sure you _could_ do it." Brass replied with a smile that quickly vanished. "If you don't want to, that's a different thing."

_Yeah I know_. she thought but repeated her words: "I can't."

"All right." Brass breathed in and out, just a little disappointed, but understanding. He would have loved to see Michelle heading Division. "I've got one more thing, then I'll let you get to work." he said, reaching for a file folder on the other side of the desk. "I know this will be a hard one, Michelle, but unfortunately, it's the job." he apologized in advance. He held on to the file still while he explained. "These are reports and debriefs concerning the day Morgan's terrorist group carried out their attacks... You're going to have to read through them. Also, we only have an incomplete debriefing statement from you that Rae Platchecky took down. You'll need to file a complete report and answer some more questions before we can close the case."

Now it was Michelle who needed an extra breath before quickly replying. "Yes, of course."

Her voice and her expression were that of a professional. She hadn't let Brass catch even the slightest bit of hesitation or anxiousness in her voice, and he, as a colleague, had no doubt that she would do what she had to, but as a fellow human being, knowing what she and Tony had gone through in the past month, as well as the kind of information the documents contained, he had to ask: "You okay with that? It can wait."

"No. No, I'm fine. I'll get it done by the end of the week." she promised, taking the folder from him decisively. The last thing she wanted was to be handled with kid gloves. "Anything else?"

Brass paused. "No. Just read through the other files, and let me know if you need any clarification." Brass stood and began to move the chair back where it was before. "I'll still be here for a couple of days, there are things I have to finish before I can hand them over to you."

"Okay, thanks." she said, and smiled, standing up and walking over to him. "Oh, and thanks for filling in for me. I really appreciate it." she said while extending her hand to him.

He shook her hand. "No problem." Lou turned to leave, then back to her, as he remembered something. "Oh, you worked in Seattle last year, didn't you?"

"Yeah, briefly. They needed me on Homeland Security restructuring. Why?"

"Well, I have someone in mind as a replacement for Brad. Thought you might have met him there." He paused very briefly. "Bill Buchanan?"

Michelle's knees were about to fail her but she caught herself before they did. _Self control, Michelle, self control._ she ordered herself. Bill had been a Senior Agent with the Seattle Division when she was there. They had worked closely together during those months. Tony was still in prison and Michelle was more than happy about the change of scenery, being somewhere else, not having to walk into their empty house at night. At work, she didn't let her emotions take over, but the nights were not as easy. Bill, on the other hand, had just been through a bad breakup, and so he and Michelle had ended up going for a couple of drinks after work, talking a lot. Their after work drinks had turned into a solid friendship, even though she hadn't spent more than a few months in Seattle. But Michelle had always had this feeling that Bill had hoped for more than she had wanted to give. She wasn't sure if his transfer to Los Angeles would be a curse or a blessing.

"Yeah, I've met him. We worked together." she managed to say almost, but not quite, neutrally.

"Good. I'm going to suggest him to the board as Associate SAC at first, with the objective to have him promoted to SAC as soon as possible. If he is interested, that is, and if you don't object." He smiled. "After all, you guys would be working together here daily if he's appointed."

Michelle smiled. It was somewhat forced, but she hoped she was able to hide that fact well enough. "No, I don't object. Bill Buchanan is a suitable candidate." she uttered.

"Okay then." Brass replied, opening the door. "I'll leave you to it. If you need me, give me a call."

"I will."

Then, Lou Brass exited the office. When she was sure he had left, Michelle collapsed into the chair at her desk, sighing heavily and feeling weak. _All this and now Bill_._ Just how much more complicated can things get ? _


	11. The whole Truth

**A/N:**_ The first part of this chapter will come as a repetition to those of you you've read FftP_._ It contains lots of information, forgive me if it comes across as a bit dry but it is a report and I've tried to keep it "objective"_._Just bear with me (or Michelle), the report is just one part of this chapter_ ;-). _Oh, and thank you all for the reviews, they're much appreciated_ :-). _Enjoy._

* * *

**Day 15 **

"Max, please make sure I'm not disturbed, unless a national crisis emerges." Michelle said through the intercom. The disembodied voice on the other end let out an okay, and Michelle darkened her office to the outside. She held a thick file with a CTU seal on it in her hands, and sat, looking at it, as if contemplating opening it but not really being sure about whether or not to do it. Through the glass walls, she glanced downstairs at the bullpen; Brass was still there, but he would leave the following day. For the rest of the staff, it was just a normal workday. For Michelle, this would be a hard one.

It was just after 9 a.m. on a Wednesday, just two days after she'd returned to work. She had promised Brass to read the debriefs about the day of the latest attacks and to finish writing up her own report by Friday, which left her two and a half days to deal with it, so she knew she had to stop putting it off. She had already called Platchecky to arrange for another meeting to answer any further questions.

_This is just another file, Michelle. Just another document. Stay professional, objective, and as Jack would put it, detached_, she told herself. She repeated these words in her mind once again, and hoped it would work. She knew she was trying to lie to herself, but doing her best to keep a distance between her and the pages she was about to face would be the best way possible to deal with the facts. With a sigh, Michelle leaned forward in her chair, as if bracing herself for the fight with the words, and opened the file. She flipped through the pages from start to finish first, to get an overview of the documents included.

There were several sections. Section One contained a summary of Tony's involvement in the case in its first half, from the moment he had stepped into the DOD building with Jack, to his transfer to Cedars after the second surgery. In its second half, it dealt with Brad Hammond's actions with regards to Tony's case. The summary section was the visible result of someone's long work compiling information from all the documents in the file and could serve to a reader pressed for time as a good introduction into everything that had happened on that day. Section Two contained transcripts of the debriefs and statements as well as a recount of the actual interrogation Tony had been put through at Division. Hammond, Knoll, Dr. Burke, Steve Sheldon and the security guards had all been interviewed, though Hammond's debrief hadn't been complete, for obvious reasons. The different interviews had been arranged so as to testify to the same timepoint, thus as if telling a story. Every relevant piece of information was given in the appropriate place instead of separate interviews.

Section Three had all the other statements in some way connected to the case. Michelle saw her own debrief there, then there was Chloe's and Jack's statement, and also interrogation protocols from the Federal, when Hammond was talking to Ragen's men. One of the men, Robert Louden, had been directly responsible for planting the seed of doubt in Tony's integrity, or rather, cherishing it in Hammond's mind, and just for a second, when reading Louden's name, Michelle felt glad the man was dead. Another interrogation protocol from Federal was that of Patrick Newton, another mercenary on Ragen's payroll, and a perfect example of how Hammond's prejudiced mind had handled things. Neither Newton nor any other of the men had implicated Tony, but Hammond chose to believe the word of a single man, Louden, instead. Michelle breathed in so as to stay focused and went on to the last section. Section Four was titled _Varia_ and contained a photo section, memos and miscellaneous information that didn't fit into any other sections.

Michelle resisted the temptation to look at the photos for now, not ready to face whatever pictures they were. Instead, she went back to Section Two. During all these weeks by Tony's side, she had been dreading this moment. But now it was inevitable and she would just do it, get it over with. She skipped the headers and began reading the first paragraph.

Along with the date and the approximate times of every event, Section Two contained the following information. When Brad Hammond returned from Federal where he had questioned Ragen's men, he had immediately summoned two guards and led them to Conference Room 4 where Tony had set up. It contained a reference to Tony's previous injuries (an abdominal gun shot wound that had been treated, two broken ribs, a concussion, countless bruises and several other small injuries) he had incurred during his undercover operation earlier that day and to the surgery he'd been through. Instantly, Michelle's mind went back to when she had seen Tony wake up after surgery that day. She had been afraid of losing him there already; and when Tony'd insisted on going back to duty thereafter, they'd had an argument but then she'd given in: Tony had needed to see things through and she'd understood.

The report continued with Tony's being taken into custody. One of the guards remembered he had inadvertedly struck an elbow to Tony's side and Tony's obvious pain as he was brought into the interrogation room. Tony had asked for painkillers and water, but Hammond had denied him both. _Bastard_, Michelle instantly thought and for the first of many times that would follow, she took her eyes off the file in her hand for a second. _He knew how injured Tony was. He knew Tony had been helping us_. But then some other part of her mind reminded her. _It's standard procedure during an interrogation, Michelle, you know that. You have to try and be objective about this. As if it weren't Tony._ She sighed. _Yeah, but the question is, Can I?_

She turned her eyes to the report again. Tony tried to get Hammond to look for surveillance tapes from Ragen's compound. According to Dave, a guard then in the room with them, Hammond had said he would have the tapes looked at, but never made the call, at least not to Dave's knowledge. This was confirmed by Chloe O'Brian at C.T.U. who had had the tapes at the time. Tony and Hammond were then left alone in the room. There was no indication Hammond had used force on Tony at the time, although Tony's pain was visibly getting stronger all by itself.

The report then continued with Michelle finding the interrogation room and demanding to speak to Hammond. That would be one part Michelle would have to fill Division in on, so she stuck a post-it on the page for later. She remembered confronting Hammond with the fact he had no real proof and trying to reason with him, but to no avail. Her skin crawled with the remeniscence of the very first time Hammond had arrested Tony, and she had been denied access. This second time was no different than that and she had indeed been afraid Hammond would get his way again. _Don't. It's over._ she told herself and quickly continued reading, not wanting to go back in her head to Tony's trial, prison, and everything that followed from it.

Hammond had implied Tony was trying to get Jack killed, a completely and utterly unthinkable scenario in Michelle's mind, but there was nothing she could do to make Hammond let go. All this crawled to the surface of her mind, and she recalled the brief moment when she'd caught a glimpse of Tony seated at the table just before Hammond went back inside. The look in Tony's eyes had been haunting her during the days at the hospital.

There was a note at this point in the report that what happened when Tony and Hammond were alone in the room could not be completely reconstructed without Tony's testimony, but that Dr. Burke had recommended Tony not be questioned on the subject due to possible severe psychological effects he might have carried from the events.

_Severe psychological effects_, Michelle read again. She felt a lump in her throat just reading those words. Burke was right. Not only had Tony been prepared to take his own life in order to escape further torture by the end of the day, but his mind was still being tormented by the memories; Tony's nightmares and irritability were witness to that fact.

Tony had been thrown into one of the holding cells. There was no mention of Tony's state during that time, but it wasn't hard to guess that the small, dark, confined space had tormented him. After a while, he'd been brought back into interrogation and cuffed to a pole in the interrogation room. Michelle vividly remembered the marks on Tony's wrists from where the cuffs had cut into his flesh; they were in fact still faintly visible even now. She closed her eyes again, breathing in deeply. Before her mind's eye, she clearly saw the image of Tony cuffed to the pole, unable to move. She took her time to yank the image from her mind. It didn't completely disappear but she continued.

Eventually, Knoll was brought into play. Knoll had stated that again, Tony had asked Hammond to check the surveillance tapes, but after Hammond's refusal, Knoll was ordered to give Tony a first dose of a neuroactive drug. A footnote indicated it was a further developed version of what Richards used back in CTU a couple years ago. This drug had been designed for fast and hard action and long-lasting effect. Michelle recalled the short memo she'd read a while ago about the improved drug, but never would she have dreamed to see it used on Tony.

Next, there was a short statement from Steve Sheldon indicating that he'd brought Hammond information about a possible connection between Tony and Diego Valdez, a former inmate at Lompoc Federal prison, the same facility Tony had been sent to to serve his 20 year sentence. Valdez had been on Ragen's payroll before Ragen shot him. _Oh my God_. Michelle gasped. This was new information to her. _How much bad luck can one have?_ she thought. _They believed to have found a connection through Valdez_. Steve had also stated that he was shocked by the glimpse of Tony who was slumped on the floor in obvious agony and that this picture was one of the reasons he'd resigned later that day. Part of Sheldon's testimony was an apology for the bad research on this on his part, and he had also insisted on including the apology in the report.

The interrogation had become harsher after this. Knoll had begun to use a taser on Tony. _The brown marks on his neck and body_, it shot through Michelle's head. Tony soon became unconscious with the combined effects of the drug and the electricity, but was quickly woken up again. A small note said he'd vomited shortly thereafter. Michelle's own stomach churned at this and she took her eyes off the paper again for a moment.

Nevertheless, the interrogation had continued and according to Knoll, Tony was soon begging Hammond to stop. At this point, Michelle's eyes began to well up. She felt physically sick. She closed her eyes for a moment, making a fist and leaning it against her upper lip, as if for support; she didn't feel like continuing but something didn't allow her to stop, either. So she went on.

When Hammond had ordered Knoll to continue anyway, Knoll had suggested Tony probably didn't know anything more than he'd told them. From his experience, he thought that Tony seemed broken. A tear freed itself from Michelle's eyes. Knoll's testimony continued. The only thing Hammond had agreed on was getting Dr. Burke to the interrogation room and allowing him to make sure Tony is not in immediate danger of death. Dr. Burke's statement read that, after examining Tony (completely inadequately, as he added, since Tony had been left cuffed to the pole), he had urged Hammond to stop the interrogation and allow Tony to recover, but then had to give in and allow Hammond to continue, although warning him about Tony's fragile state. Hammond dragged Tony from the floor to his feet again and ordered Knoll to continue. Knoll stated he had hit Tony with the taser again and that Tony had slumped to the floor. "When Tony hadn't stirred, Hammond felt for Tony's pulse, but there was none."

Michelle audibly gasped for breath, covering her mouth with both her hands in utter shock as she realized what had happened. And now she couldn't hold back the ocean of salty tears that had begun to fill her eyes. Softly, silently, they ran down her cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them from her face. She couldn't look at the report again. She cried silently into her hands and a sob escaped her here and there. There was a heaviness on her chest like she had only felt it while waiting for Tony to come out of surgery. She felt something crush inside her as it hit her how close she'd been to losing him to a bastard like Hammond without even knowing it. Even worse was the feeling that she was part of the reason for all this, knowing how late she had managed to help Tony; the knowledge that, had he not been revived during the interrogation, there would have been nothing she could have done for him. There was the feeling she had failed him.

She cried and while she cried she began to understand Dr. Burke's role in the events a little better, too. Remembering how Tony had reacted to Burke's presence in the cell as she and Burke had finally gotten there - suddenly, it all made sense. She realized Burke must have been the one who'd brought Tony back to life in the interrogation room; but to Tony, after everything he'd been through, death must have seemed like a relief. It pained her to even think the thought, but she knew that there comes a point in an interrogation where this will be true. And Tony's fear of Burke had told her exactly that. Tony would rather have stayed dead.

All the compassion and understanding Erica Hammond had tried to and to some extent succeeded in installing in Michelle was suddenly thrown overboard. Brad, her former boss, had killed her husband and there was nothing anybody could say or do that could rectify that. If Tony had been guilty, or if Hammond had even checked the evidence, if he hadn't been quite as prejudiced and convinced of Tony's guilt, maybe she would have tried to understand, but like this... No, she couldn't. She wouldn't.

* * *

It was almost noon and Michelle had gotten her composure back. The shock and the pain were still there but her eyes were dry. On an impulse, she took her cell phone and hit a speed-dial button. She stood while it was ringing. She felt the need to hear Tony's voice and waited, somewhat anxiously, for him to pick up his cell phone. 

Tony was lying on the bed in the downstairs bedroom, reading the paper. He had considered checking if there was anything on TV, but didn't want to talk to his father right now. _He'll just ask something pointless again_. he thought dryly. As his cell phone rang, Tony put the paper aside, picked up the phone without looking at it and answered: "Almeida."

Michelle let out a breath. "Hey. It's me."

"Hey, Sweetheart." Tony greeted her, his voice softening. "What's going on?" he asked, sitting up in the bed slightly. She didn't call him from work too often, so he assumed she had something on her mind.

Michelle suddenly fought to keep her voice steady. "Nothing, I guess I just wanted to see how you're doing." she answered, adding in her mind, _I needed to hear you're alive_. "What have you and Enrico been up to?" she then said aloud again. "Cooking tasty Mexican food?"

"I'm doing fine. Should probably go outside to get some fresh air." Tony said, not wanting to let her know that he wasn't exactly on friendly terms with his father right now. They'd managed to be civil to each other around her for now and there was no need for her to think anything else. "How are things there? Are you going to be at the office late today?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too dependent.

"Uhm, yeah, I might." she admitted. "There are some things I need to finish here by the end of the week." _Once I've managed to read through the entire file_, she thought, _which won't be easy_. "A report that has to be written... I'll, I'll call you when I get out of here."

Tony smiled at the phone. "All right, I'll be here." He then hesitated a moment before speaking again, and the smile on his face faded. He had heard her falter and she usually didn't, not unless something was bothering her. He guessed he might know what it was. "Honey, is everything ok?" he asked softly, concern audible in his voice.

If she didn't want so hard to try and keep this from him, if she could have allowed him to comfort her, she would have answered no and and told him everything. But instead, she needed another excuse. She forced a smile onto her lips, knowing he could hear her smile through the phone, then replied, "I'm okay. There's just so much that I have to take care of, there's still no replacement for Brad... I just feel bad not being there with you."

"Hey, I'm fine. You have enough on your mind there without worrying about me."

"Ok." she replied, but felt her throat tighten and knew she had to hang up before she began to give away her state of mind. "Honey, I have to go. I'll see you tonight." she said quickly.

"Yeah, ok. Bye."

Tony hung up, and Michelle pressed the phone to her chest, closing her eyes.

* * *

Michelle was driving her car on the way home from Division. It was already dark outside, and she was tired. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, it was almost 9.30. She hadn't eaten anything since the morning. She hadn't had much appetite at noon, not with the sick feeling in her stomach, and she'd just locked herself in her office until she'd managed to read through the whole file. It had been hard, and reading the statements and everyone's thoughts had brought back thousands of memories she'd pushed to the back of her mind. She was now famished but the thought of food was all but inviting. She didn't know if she could swallow down a bite. 

Even worse was the state of her mind. Although she'd been through countless interrogations at CTU, even if she knew that all the things that had happened to Tony could likely have happened to anyone else, despite knowing that it was their job to make sure people under suspicion told them everything - this was Tony, her Tony, and Tony was innocent. Again, pain surfaced in her and she was glad to have arrived to their neighborhood. She turned into their street and a minute later parked the car, turned off the lights and the engine but didn't motion to open the car door. If Tony had been in the car with her, he instantly would have asked, _What is it?_ And she would have admitted, _I'm afraid to go in there_. He would have looked at her, bewildered, _What?_ and the truth is, she was just as confused as he would have been.

She didn't know how to deal with what she'd found out, with the knowledge of what had really happened to Tony. And with a mild shock, she realized she was afraid to face him for fear of breaking down in front of him. It was not that she didn't want him to comfort her; she just didn't want to make him remember it all again because of her. She'd seen what his memories were doing to him already and simply didn't want to add another worry to his burden. But how well could she hide it from him? Tony always knew hot to read her, and while it normally didn't bother her, tonight it'd be hard to fight it. She sighed, glancing at her cell phone. There was no good way to create a diversion, not unless she chose to go some place else for the night. But that was not an option.

She saw a light flicker in the kitchen and a silhouette of a man walk by the window. _If you don't want to spend the night here, Michelle, you'd better go inside now_. she concluded. She still didn't know how to approach Tony, but she took her things from the passenger seat, stepped out of the car, locked it, then went to the front door and unlocking it, entered the house.

Tony was sitting by the computer in the study checking his e-mail, not that he had much mail these days, but old habits died hard. _Spam, spam, spam, spam_, he went through the in-box. He was just trying to keep himself busy since he couldn't really go for another walk either. Besides, Michelle had called him a while ago saying she'd be heading home soon. He still felt awkward at home without her, he had too much time to think.

Things with his father were tense, so Tony had mostly kept to himself. Right now, Enrico was in the kitchen cleaning it up. After dinner, Tony had told him he would do it, but Enrico had just shooed him out saying he should still take it easy.

Then Tony heard the front door opening and the sound of keys hitting the desk. He shut down the computer. Soon after came the familiar voice he had wanted to hear: "Tony?"

He got up from the desk and went to the living room where Michelle was now. "Hey." he said, cautiously wrapping his arms around her and giving her a kiss. "Long day, huh?"

"Yeah." she said, allowing him to hug her, and whispered. "I've missed you." The cozy warmth of his body close to her made her close her eyes. _He's alive. And he's going to be okay_. she told herself. It might have been irrational, but she'd needed to hear those words in her head after today.

"Evening, Michelle." Enrico said as he walked to the living room. There were still some small things on the table he'd wanted to pick up and he hadn't heard her come in.

As if a bit ashamed, Michelle lifted up her head from Tony's shoulder and smiled very slightly at Enrico. "Evening. Have a good day?"

"Yeah." Enrico replied, then went back to the kitchen with the cutlery he'd taken from the table. The day had been bearable at best. Tony and he hadn't exchanged more than maybe 30 words, and all of them had been about what to eat; other than that, both of them had been keeping themselves busy the best they could.

Michelle marveled a bit at Enrico's instant retreat to the kitchen, but then figured he'd just wanted to give her and Tony some privacy. Her arms slid to Tony's shoulders, down to his elbows and then up again. "How are you, honey? How's the pain?" she asked.

"It's ok. _I'm fine_." Tony assured her in the soft tone he used only with her. _Something is still bothering her. _he thought, looking into her eyes. It was something about the way she had acted towards him today, the phonecall she had made just to see if he's ok. She looked back at him, and he realized, _She read the debriefs. _He sighed inwardly. _I was right._

Sitting down on the couch carefully, Tony pulled Michelle's hand so that she sat down next to him. Letting out a sigh, he looked her in the eye, then asked, "What is it?"

Michelle looked away, her eyes coming to a stop on the fireplace for a moment or two before turning to him again, squeezing Tony's hand as if drawing strength from the touch. Her other hand she ran through Tony's hair and then kept it on his cheek. She couldn't pretend it was nothing, even less could she lie to him, but telling him everything was completely out of the question. Slowly, carefully, she pulled his head towards her own and kissed his lips gently. Their foreheads touched, the tip of her nose brushed Tony's for a second, and then she kissed him again.

Tony understood that whatever she had read or what had happened today had shaken her. She would talk to him when and if she felt like it, he wouldn't force her. So for now he returned the kiss, leaned back against the couch and pulled her close, careful not to disturb his injuries, especially the ribs. Caressing her back with his other hand, he just held her. No words were necessary. He only hoped the closeness would help ease her anxiety.

Michelle closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly for several minutes and Michelle's unrest began to ease somewhat. _God, I love you_. she thought, running her hand up and down Tony's chest.

At some point, the sounds from the kitchen stopped and Enrico walked into the living room. Seeing the two on the couch, he decided to go upstairs. Before he could, Tony's eyes opened and he shot a glance at his father, which Enrico returned with a long stare. Neither of them wanted to be the first to look away. But when Michelle stirred, Enrico gave in, turning to the stairs and soon retreated to his bedroom.

Michelle looked at Tony and realized there was silence in the kitchen. "Where's Enrico?"

"He went upstairs." Tony replied. "You hungry? There's some dinner still left in the fridge." he continued, knowing that she probably hadn't eaten much given the busy days she'd had.

Michelle's growling stomach reminded her that food would be a good idea. "Yeah, I should probably grab a bite." she said tiredly. "What did you guys have?" she asked, sitting up in the couch, still holding Tony's hand.

"Just some chili. Quick and easy and not too spicy either." Tony replied as Michelle stood, not letting go of him, so that he stood, too. Sliding an arm behind Tony's back, she began to walk to the kitchen.

"Sounds good to me. Let's pop it in the microwave, and then I need to get some sleep. I'm exhausted."

Tony smiled and kissed her hair. "Yeah, just don't wear yourself out." he whispered.

She gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'll be fine."

"Siddown." Tony said softly, then let go of her by the kitchen table, and while she did, he went to the fridge. He warmed her food up quickly, and Michelle tasted it carefully, testing her stomach. There was no nausea. After the first couple of bites, her hunger came back and the chili was soon gone. She put the empty plate into the dishwasher, then both of them went to get ready for bed.

With some relief, while Michelle was in the bathroom, Tony took his painkiller, hoping for another quiet and painless night. The days were less easy since he'd still mostly tried to get through them without taking the pain medication. Even with the drug, the pain still flared up occasionally and when it did, it left him irritable; without it, the pain was much harder to bear, but Tony had come to value the painless nights more. When Tony and Michelle finally crawled into bed, they were both just wishing for a good night's sleep, the next morning would be there too soon anyway.

Yet Michelle had trouble falling asleep that night. She tossed and turned for a while until Tony wrapped his arms around her shoulders, despite the uneasiness about his still healing injuries; he just couldn't watch her torment herself anymore. He held her, and the rhythm of their breathing soon synchronized. The feeling of Tony's arms around her gradually calmed her down and both of them fell asleep some time after midnight. 


	12. Hurt and Offended

**A/N:** Thanks for your wonderful reviews guys, they make my day :-). This chapter is all about family. As Tony would say, "It's family. You can't see it coming." Enjoy.

* * *

**Day 20**

The weekend hadn't been that great. It had rained a lot and had been unusually cold for the time of the year. Michelle had been too exhausted from the working week to want to do much, so she had preferred to stay at home most of the time. Tony, on the other hand, had wanted to just leave the house, go anywhere but stay in, but hadn't wanted to do it alone, having learned not to take time with Michelle for granted.

And it would have been okay, just to sit at home with her and do absolutely nothing, had there not been two things: Enrico, the relationship with whom was still tense, and the feeling that Michelle just wasn't herself.

Michelle had been at work for a week now but ever since she'd come back home last Wednesday, she'd been a little distant, even though she was never unfriendly towards Tony, or Enrico, for that matter. There was as much love and thankfulness inside her for their being together as there ever had been, and when she touched Tony, he felt as electrified and loved as on their first day. But he knew she was hiding something, he guessed what it was but she wouldn't talk about it. He even had an irrational fear that she was purposely staying at the office late so that she could just turn in when she came home and avoid having to talk to him. Tony hated this feeling, but couldn't shake it off. The thought of her evading him was almost unbearable. He knew he'd have to talk to her at some point. She was torturing herself with something and he wanted to be there for her.

At home, with his father around, Tony felt watched over, like in prison, and Michelle's long hours at the office were not helping the situation. Without her there, Tony was starting to get cabin fever. He couldn't bear sitting around doing nothing. Having no job to go to daily was getting to him hard enough already, and even with the prospect of a new position, the starting date seemed ages away. Enrico doing everything at home made Tony feel even more useless. So Enrico had been in charge of cooking for the first few days, but then Tony had taken over; he needed at least something to do.

Tony also needed the freedom to move. As soon as he'd noticed his strength returning, he had started to go for walks. Beside fresh air and exercise, the walks also gave him some room to breathe and organize his thoughts. His ventures outside were short at first, or he would walk for a while and then sit down somewhere to collect his strength again before heading back home. But by now, he could stay outside longer and move about more, even though he still had to watch for any sudden movements. His ribs would usually remind him of any uncomfortable position pretty mercilessly.

Beside all of this, there was the dull pain Tony was still in during the day from time to time, that was so damn annoying; sometimes he wished he could just drug himself to sleep until it all passed. Another thing that irked him a bit was that - even though he inwardly needed to start working again so he could feel complete - this also meant that he and Michelle would see each other even less.

Tony stepped inside their garden after a walk and closed the garden door. He had managed to stay outside for an hour, but the time out in the fresh air had failed to take away his irritation and offendedness. The day was dry, but grey and cold, and sort of mirrored the inside of Tony's being at the moment when he pushed the key into the lock and opened the front door. Stepping inside, he slammed the door shut behind him.

His father was sitting on the couch where Tony usually sat and was pretending to be reading the paper. As Tony announced his return, Enrico hardly looked up. He had almost gotten used to not talking to Tony, to throwing glances around like daggers, and to pretending things were fine when Michelle was there. But getting used to it didn't mean he could just grin and bear it nor that it was right.

Enrico's feelings towards Tony's new job were mixed. He was happy for his son, but knew that this meant that Tony wouldn't need him any more. And for a father, that thought was not a nice realization. Despite everything, they were still father and son, and Enrico had been glad to be around Tony, even if 'being around' was beginning to be limited to physical presence only.

From a father's perspective, Enrico would have wanted to stay with Tony longer, but with the silence between them, it wasn't hard to guess that, right now, Tony felt that it was about time for Dad to go. The thought of leaving and being out of touch with Tony again ached Enrico; even after all these years, he still hated it that they lived so far apart. He'd often thought that maybe things would have been different, had Tony not moved to the West Coast but stayed close to the family, somewhere in Chicago, like his brothers had.

Not really being a master at expressing his emotions, Enrico had often allowed some other feeling to cover up his pain or hurt in the past, faked anger or annoyance to avoid dealing with them. Brushing things off was easier than discussion and dealing with them, even though the latter would have been better. Maybe that was the reason he grunted: "Can't you close the door quietly?"

"Yeah, but I didn't. It's my door, isn't it." Tony answered coolly, and threw the keys on the sideboard. He wasn't up for any attitude at the moment.

"What the hell is your problem, boy?" Enrico retorted, folding the paper. Tony's sarcasm was one thing, he could take that, after all, they both had that in them, but this open hostility in the past few days was really starting to get to him. "Did I offend you by bringing you into the world? Or is it just your life bothering you?"

Tony hung his jacket on the coat rack. "Don't talk to me like I'm fifteen. It's none of your business anyway."

Tony had turned to face him when Enrico threw the paper on the couch, standing up and approaching Tony. "Want me to treat you like an adult? Then ACT like an adult, for Christ's sake!"

"You think you can come into my house after all these years and tell _me_ how to act like an adult? Think again, Dad!" Tony spat back. Father or not, Enrico had no right to talk down to him like that.

"Oh, I see. You're doing just fine without any help." Enrico's tone was highly sarcastic. "What was that fight with Michelle the other day all about again? Work, wasn't it. How very mature!"

Fiery anger shot through Tony's eyes. _Just what I need right now_. "Back off, Dad! What goes on between me and Michelle is none of your damn business! And you're the last person on Earth who should be lecturing me about work and relationships! You just don't get it, do you?!"

Enrico crossed his arms. "Maybe I don't. Explain it to me, will ya?"

Tony just let out a laugh, averting his eyes from his father. He didn't want to look at him. _Of what use would that be to anyone?_

Enrico watched him for a second, then realized what Tony had actually said and began to understand. "Oh, _now_ it's getting interesting. Is this what this is all about, me and Mom? I told you, we're _fine_!"

Tony shot a glance at his father. "Like hell you are!" He felt every muscle in him stiffen. "_You_ are one of the reasons Mom is as ill as she is right now. You buried yourself into work after Alicia died! YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN SHE NEEDED YOU THE MOST, I WAS!" he yelled angrily, hit by the memory of the slicing pain he felt at seeing his mother's anguish and being unable to do anything to ease it.

"You weren't there to comfort her after she broke down seeing Alicia's picture on the piano. You didn't hear her pleading God to give her back her daughter. You were too busy running your department in the hospital! _I_ was there for her when _you_ should have been!"

Enrico was stumped. Tony's sister, Alicia, had been killed in a car accident. Tony had still been in college, back then, his two older brothers had moved out already. Things at home hadn't been good for a long time thereafter, but that was so many years ago Enrico couldn't believe Tony was still holding this against him.

"So you're accusing me of abandoning your mother?! I LOVE her, I always have! But I had a job to do, Tony! And you of all people should understand not every job is nine to five!"

"Oh, I do know that." Tony was right in his father's face. "But sixteen hour days at a time like that? You could have taken a leave of absence, they would have understood! My God, you'd LOST YOUR DAUGHTER!"

Losing control momentarily, Enrico slapped Tony. "Don't yell at me like that, I'm still your father! Maybe it was wrong, but I was focusing on what I had left!"

Tony was perplexed, the slap stung his cheek. _I tell you the truth and this is what I get in return_, he thought bitterly. For a second he was about to raise his hand and slap Enrico back, but stopped himself. Getting past the momentary surprise, he glared at Enrico, unable to prevent anger and disappointment from reflecting in his eyes.

His voice was suddenly low, cold, menacing, as he finally replied. "Yeah, well, you forgot about Mom. She was still there, too."

Enrico had instantly regretted striking Tony, but now Tony had slapped him back with his words and Enrico didn't like it. "I worked so hard so we could pay for your college! And your brothers'! I gave you everything, so YOU could have a good life! If you want to turn around and throw it all away, you're on the right path!" he hissed, obviously referring to more than just the unspoken things between the two of them.

"Yeah." Tony muttered in contempt, crossed his arms. "You just about threw everything away with those_ long hours_." He raised an eyebrow. "Or do you think I'd honestly believe that."

There was just a second's pause, in the silence, tension built up until it could be cut with a knife. Tony then said calmly. "I know about your affair, Dad, so don't try to preach to me about throwing things away."

Then he stopped again to let the words sink in. He watched closely his father's reaction to what he'd said. Enrico was staring back at Tony, he hadn't moved a muscle on his face, although his shoulders sagged slightly, but his eyes said he'd been hit. Tony's back was straight; a head taller than Enrico, he was towering above his father.

"Surprised, are you? Don't be." Tony continued icily. "I've known for years. And so has Mom. Do you have any idea what kind of a blow it was for her to hear that you had another woman?! AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED!!! With all the stress and heartache, no wonder she had the stroke."

Enrico had found his words again, but his voice was not as defensive or loud as before. Only now did he understand what all the hostility had been about. "Are you blaming me for your mother's stroke? That was ten years after Alicia died."

Tony kept his eyes on his father's. "Yeah, well, so was your affair. If you had been there for Mom instead, it might not have happened."

Suddenly, something inside Enrico broke. Even with his MD training, he couldn't tell what it was but it felt like a knock-out. His chest tightened and for a second, he feared another heart attack, although, at this point, he would even have welcomed it. He was unable to reply for a while. That Tony knew about the nurse was new to him. After Rosita's stroke, Enrico had finally quit his job at the hospital and spent all his time with her, untiil he opened the restaurant two years later, not able to sit still doing nothing. He had blamed himself for not being there for her before, too, but he had thought she'd never found out about the affair. It was stupid, it was meaningless, and: "It was over long before that." he said, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, sure it was." Tony said bitterly. He had always believed his father had been with that nurse the night Mom had actually had the stroke.

Tony decided he'd had enough talking for the day. Enrico remained standing where he was, motionless, but Tony walked to the downstairs bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

* * *

**Night 20**

Tony's wrists hurt. Some heavy force was pulling at his joints, rough rope cutting into his skin. The weight put a strain on his shoulders, threatening to pull them out of their sockets. There was a cold sensation underneath his toes and the balls of his feet, but nowhere else; these two facts alone made him realize unmistakably that he must be standing on a cold concrete floor, bound to something in the ceiling, so that his body weight actually hung from the rope. He didn't know how long he'd been tied up, but his hands felt numb, so it must have been a while. Afraid his hands will suffer necrosis, Tony tried to shift position to ease the pressure, but it didn't help; the rope must have been completely straightened out and secured, ensuring his body was being pulled up.

He was chilly and beginning to feel stiff. The temperature must have been turned down to the minimum. He felt the cold airflow from the air conditioning all over his body, no area felt protected; this told him that he'd been stripped of his clothing. He couldn't see anything, but there was pressure on his eyes - a clear sign that he was blindfolded. And in addition to all that, his whole body was hurting, like he'd been beaten up. No doubt - he was back in the interrogation again.

If he could, he would wrap his arms around himself to conserve what warmth he had, try and shield himself from his tormentors. But in his current position he knew all too well that there was nothing he could do, whatever happens would be totally in their hands. Not surprisingly, then, soon, Tony heard Hammond's voice speak to him, "We need to find your accomplices, we need to find them now, and we'll do whatever it takes do make you talk."

Frustrated, Tony let out a sigh, wanting to say something but no sound came out of him. Weary and resigned, he thought: _Son of a bitch_._ This never stops_.

From somewhere on his right, he heard heels clicking on the concrete, coming closer; the steps were slow and calculated. Assuming it would be Knoll yet again, Tony braced himself for a hit of the taser, forcing himself to try and stand properly again, looking for hold and solid ground underneath him though the changed position pulled even harder on his wrists.

Instead of feeling a wave of electricity wash over him, he heard a male voice just a couple of feet away: "You're a good fighter. Strong. Stubborn... Just like I taught you."

Tony gasped in shock, turning his head towards the sound. "Dad?!"

"That's right."

Tony gasped inwardly. _What the hell is happening? What's he doing with Hammond?_

Enrico's voice was no more than a loud whisper as he said into Tony's ear: "You think you hurt me. Wait until _this _is over."

Tony tried to back off, terrified, yet the ropes held him back. "No. No. No, this isn't real! This can't be real!" he yelled, agony in his voice.

The heels walked farther away. "Better tell us what we need to know."

"I don't KNOW anything!"

Tony was beginning to feel desperate. His mind worked furiously to understand what was going on._ The fight. It's about that. It must be_._ I shouldn't have said anything, I should have stayed quiet and kept it inside_._ Things always just come back to hurt me even worse. Everything goes to hell._

Before he could even say anything further, he perceived another pair of shoes walking around. These footsteps were lighter but they moved just as slowly. However, their sound was sharper. As they got closer, Tony smelled familiar perfume, one that he'd bought as a Christmas present a while ago. His body began to shake and his mind screamed in agony even before Michelle spoke.

"You've lied long enough, Tony." Her voice was cold, full of resentment. "People's lives are on the line. If you don't tell us everything right now, I promise you, this will become very unpleasant."

If he hadn't been bound to the ceiling, Tony would have fallen to the ground. His legs failing him, he lost his hold; his weight hung fully on his wrists, the rope about to cut his hands off. He wished he could tear down the roof, that the building would collapse on top of him, bury them all under a mass of concrete and debris. His only family had given him up. Everyone had turned against him. He began to cry, too crushed to even reply.

He felt cold metal make contact with his arm, then came sharp pain; he knew he had been cut but he didn't care. He didn't even scream. Physical pain couldn't hurt him any more than Michelle's betrayal. He sensed blood begin to flow down towards his shoulder. At this moment, he felt like he'd passed out.

The next second, it seemed, bright lights hit Tony's eyes, but although he recognized the grey wall before him and it clearly was a CTU interrogation room, things were different. He didn't feel any pain, he was not cold and he was free to move. He glanced to his left, seeing his reflection in the one way glass of the observation room. He was dressed in dark pants and a grey CTU jacket. His arms were crossed. He saw the reflection of the metal table behind him, too, but couldn't see who sat on the other side of it.

"Who the hell do you think you're kidding." Tony uttered sharply. "I told you a million times, I _know_ about the affair. I know you cheated on Mom, I know you were WITH that damn woman the night Mom got sick. Admit it!"

Tony turned and it was then, with shock inside him, that it hit him what he was doing. His own father was slumped in a chair at the interrogation table, his face bruised, his nose bloody. Richards was standing next to Enrico with a syringe in his hand.

Tony's first impulse was to scream STOP! but it was as if an unknown force was directing his actions. Instead, he just coldly nodded to Richards, just like he had done with Nina back at CTU, and the needle went straight into Enrico's neck. Enrico gritted his teeth, then yelled out in pain. But his sheer pride didn't allow him to give in and he said nothing. He stared at his son with as much contempt and defensiveness as possible.

After regaining his breath, Enrico narrowed his eyes. "You're no son of mine." he hissed. "I don't know _who_ the hell you are, but you are _not_ my son."

_Is he disowning me?_ Tony thought, horrified and shocked by his father's statement. He wanted to tell his father he had no idea how they had ended up in an interrogation room, much less in this situation.

But instead, he heard himself say: "Is that what you think?"

Watching Enrico, the effects of the drug all too familiar to him, Tony knew that his father was burning inside, but that his mind was still sharp. "I guess we do think alike, then, since after you abandoned Mom the way you did, I haven't wanted to admit that I am your son."

Enrico gave a grin. He kept his eyes locked on Tony's. "Why don't you just get this over with? _Agent_." he added the last word in a mocking tone. "Do it. Then try to explain it to Rosita." he paused for a fraction of a second. "Oh, hold on. That's right. You killed her first. Then it's just you and me now."

Tony felt his eyes welling up. _What? Mom_..._ Mom's dead? She's dead? Oh, God, no_._ No. I never wanted things to end like this_._ I'm sorry, I'm sorry_._ I didn't mean to hurt you_._ I'm sorry_, he thought, filled with pain. And yet, he couldn't do anything to stop what was going on. It was like he was looking at himself from outside his body, it wasn't him doing this, it couldn't be. He'd never do this.

"If you keep on resisting, this will only get worse. Just admit what I'm asking." he heard his own voice say again and then that Tony, that other Tony, nodded to Richards.

"Stop!" Enrico shouted, and to Tony's surprise, Richards backed off. Suddenly, Enrico stood, as if the restraints that had been placed on him had vanished into thin air. Without a warning, Enrico pulled a pistol and fired a shot. Tony could see the bullet fly in slow motion towards him, and then felt a dull thud in his chest. He knew that it had hit his heart.

Suddenly, the frightening images disappeared, and Tony woke up with a start. He could tell it was still dark outside, not a single ray of light was coming through the blinds. He glanced towards Michelle, she was still asleep. The numbers on the alarm clock on her nightstand shone faintly, it was 4:08. Tony was covered in cold sweat and his heart was racing. He didn't feel any physical pain but his mind was screaming in agony. Fear had been palpable. Everyone had abandoned him, _everyone_. He had no one to turn to. Not even his own family.

_Does she still love me? Does she trust me?_ he doubted, staring at Michelle's form next to him, the dream having shaken him to the core. He felt like a piano had come on top of him, crushing his very soul.

Gingerly, Tony turned away from Michelle so as not to disturb her. He could not fight the agony inside him anymore, it was too much. He gave in to the emotions, beginning to cry quietly. _I'm sorry I failed, Michelle, I'm sorry_.As tears ran down his cheeks, a sob shook his shoulders. _Dad, I'm sorry I said what I did_._ I just couldn't keep it in any more_.

Tony cried and the tears were stinging. He wished they could flush out all the hurt, all the guilt, all the anger from his soul. He doubted it, but still couldn't stop; he just couldn't take it any longer. He must have been crying for a few minutes, when, through his sobs, he felt movement next to him. He tried to silence himself, covered his mouth with his hands, burying his face into the pillow. He didn't want Michelle to see him cry, and he didn't want to have to explain anything, either. It would just trouble her again, even more than the last time._ Please don't wake up_.

He felt Michelle turn towards him, then she snuggled up to him from behind, her hand rose to his side, then she hugged his chest with the one arm. He heard a faint "Mhhhm." behind him as she moved, then, as she'd settled, her breathing became deep and regular again. She was still asleep.

Michelle knew most of the time how to calm him down or comfort him. A subtle touch on his arm as he was about to go off on Chloe once again, or his softly spoken name as he was about to tell Ryan where to go with his monthly evaluations at CTU. Apparently this worked even on a subconscious level. Tony was still crying, but gradually his tears seized and his ragged breath evened.

_She does love me_. he told himself. _She wouldn't be here any more if she didn't_. Michelle's arm was under his own, almost as far up as his armpit, and Tony took her hand into his, trying to harvest some energy, some comfort. He moved his face from the wet spot on his pillow, finding a dry area.

Afraid to let sleep consume him again, he lay in bed, motionless, his eyes open. _Don't go back there again_. _Don't think about it_. _Don't think, period_. Exercising self-control, he ordered himself to feel Michelle's breathing, her chest rising and falling behind him, and concentrated only on that.

Somehow, he fought, and won, managing to keep himself awake until the sun came up. He had already gotten up before Michelle's alarm clock even rang and stood in the shower for half an hour, just letting water run down his body, hoping for it to wash away the ugly images and feelings from the night. By the time Michelle got up he was dressed.

* * *

**Day 21**

"Make peace, Tony."

"Mom..."

"Make peace." Rosita said calmly into the phone, emphasizing each word. Tony said nothing, all she could hear was his breathing. She knew when he was this quiet that he was torn, aching. She had called him to see how he was doing; knowing that Enrico was there and and well aware of Tony's mixed feelings towards his father, Rosita wasn't all that surprised when Tony had told her he'd confronted Enrico with the past.

Tony's mother was a quiet woman, calm, level-headed. When she was young, she'd enjoyed being outside, sports, long walks. Her passion for nature was still with her, even though her illness had taken away her ability to do things to the same extent as before the stroke. Now, she enjoyed things in a different way. She would sit on the balcony or in the yard of their suburban house near Chicago, listening to the birds, or she would paint landscapes she had memorized or thought up.

Rosita had always worked hard. Before Sebastián, her and Enrico's first son, was born, she had worked as a teacher in two schools and spent one day a week working in a foster home. When she became a mother, she devoted her life to her own children. They were her everything. She loved all her children, but when Alicia was born, it was like a dream come true to Rosita. She adored her little girl, tailored dresses for her, played the piano with her. When Tony, the youngest of the four, came into the world, Alicia was almost five, and she loved playing Mom for Tony. She'd immitate Rosita in everything she did, learning quickly, and Tony, the baby, the pet of the family, was something like Alicia's favorite toy. As they grew, a bond formed between Tony and Alicia that was stronger than between any of the other siblings.

When Alicia passed away, Tony was still in college, Alicia had already graduated. She had studied geology, having inherited her mother's passion for nature and was doing research close to Mt St Helens. She had come home for a vacation and had only been back for two days when a drunkard, driving much too fast, drove into her car and killed her on the spot. Rosita's chest still ached whenever she thought of the cruel and abrupt way she'd lost her only daughter, but she had come to terms with Enrico's affair. She knew he loved her, and she loved him back. Past was in the past.

Rosita took a breath, and continued: "It doesn't matter any more. All that was so long ago. I've forgiven him. So should you."

Tony sighed audibly; he wasn't really sure what to do. He knew that if Mom had forgiven his father he should, too; but remembering how things were after Alicia's death, he felt he couldn't. His father wasn't there. Tony almost felt that Enrico had left them, like his mother was a burden to him, interfering with his work. And then the affair; in Tony's mind, it had just confirmed his suspicions.

"Mom, he wasn't there. He was always too busy with work, when he should have been thinking about what you both were going through. He only concentrated on how _he_ felt. He should have been there for you, too."

"Tony. Your father loved us all. He still does." She paused. "Alicia's death hit him hard, too, don't fool yourself. She was his little princess. But people deal with grief in different ways. Diving into work was his. I understand that now. I was so grateful to have you by my side, then, Tony, and I miss you. I don't know what I would have done without you. I'm sorry I had to burden you with all the pain..." She breathed in heavily. "Bottom line, Tony, is that your father has stuck with me for the past forty years. We all make mistakes."

"Mom, I know that. But after everything that happened after Alicia passed away and then the affair… I'm not… I don't know if I can." Tony said quietly.

"Please, Tony. Don't let him go home thinking you despise him. Don't carry all those ugly feelings inside you. Let go. Make peace."

Tony closed his eyes and leaned his forehead to his hand. His mother was right, as she almost always was. "All right, I'll try to." he finally said.

Rosita smiled at the phone, like she was smiling at her son. She had hoped he would. She knew that in his heart, he was too good not to. And she knew that, despite everything, that place in his heart, the place reserved only for very few people, would prevail. "Te quiero, Tony." she whispered.

"I love you, too, Mom. Take care."

The line went dead on the other end, and Tony slowly brought the phone down from his ear and hit the END button, hanging up.

* * *

**A/N**: _What? Another note?_ ;-). Those of you who've read my _"Morning, Sweetheart"_ story might remember the history of Alicia and Rosita first being introduced there. I'm not recycling my own ideas, I'm just assuming the history to be a true part of the characters, just like the 24 seasons are ;-). 


	13. Let's talk

**A/N:** The chapter title is in honor of Coldplay - and Carlos ;-). Thanks for the reviews & I'm glad you're enjoying the story :-)

* * *

**Day 22 **

The night had been largely eventless, as Tony hadn't allowed himself to sleep, fearing another nightmare. When Michelle left for work, Tony sat in the bedroom for a while still, thinking. Then with a sigh, rubbing his neck nervously, he decided: _Waiting will only make this harder_. As he came down the stairs, he saw his father reading the paper on the couch. Tony approached his father slowly, feeling like a kid again.

Enrico heard the footsteps, but didn't react.

Sitting into one of the chairs by the couch, Tony began: "Umm, Dad, I need to talk to you."

Enrico lifted his eyes from the paper just a little. He was still hurt, although he knew Tony's accusations hadn't been unfounded. But hearing them from his own son had stabbed him like a thousand daggers. He glanced at Tony, then back at the paper. He felt like he didn't have the strength for yet another discussion. He feared this one would put him over the edge. In a self-defense reaction, he retorted, "Don't you think we've insulted each other enough already?"

Tony hung his head, leaning his elbows on his knees, then lifted only his eyes towards Enrico: "Look, that's what I wanted to talk about." he sighed. "I shouldn't have said what I did, it was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

Enrico looked at Tony, who instantly turned his eyes back to the floor, feeling too guilty to meet his father's gaze.

Enrico set the paper aside, took off his reading glasses. He watched Tony for a few seconds, silently. The only sound in the house was the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall of the living room. He felt the heaviness of Tony's words, saw the weight on his shoulders. But it was not like Tony to have a change of heart almost overnight, especially since he seemed to have carried these feelings inside him for years. Tony didn't just let go.

"You talked to Mom, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Tony admitted simply.

Enrico nodded. Silence followed again, before Enrico said. "Look, Tony, I don't need you to apologize because Mom thought it was the right thing to do."

"No, Dad, listen to me. I'm not doing this because of Mom, I'm doing this for _our_ sake. You and me."

Enrico looked in Tony's eyes; he saw in them calmness and honesty and he knew what Tony had said was the truth. He himself had wanted to try and smooth things over between them, but he simply hadn't known how to go about it. Yes, he was older and wiser - or so they say - but things like apologies were just not in his genes. He lowered his eyes, and heard Tony's voice again. It was level and quiet, like the words were coming from the deepest place in his soul.

"Talking to Mom made me realize something again. When Mom had the stroke..." Tony stopped. He hung his head, his eyes on the floor again. He took a breath before continuing.

"When she had the stroke," he began, not moving his eyes. "I realized that none of us are here forever. I acknowledged it on the job at CTU but that was different... Talking to Mom again made me realize that if something happened to either of you… I don't think I could live with myself if you died thinking I was angry with you. Just like I couldn't have lived with myself if I had sacrificed Michelle in order to catch Stephen Saunders. I couldn't, and I can't."

Tony's and Enrico's eyes met again. If Enrico had ever doubted Tony's choice of career, it was for the goodness of Tony's heart - it had been a natural choice for Tony to want to serve his country, but Enrico, and Rosita, in part, had been afraid that their son was too good for the world he'd chosen to be a part of - a fear that had been sadly confirmed when Tony had been sent to prison for saving his wife's life. Enrico had never understood it, even though he'd heard the explanations, the trial, the verdict. But in his own anger of the past few days, he'd almost forgotten what Tony had gone through.

And Tony's words right now made him remember something else: they could have lost Tony, too, more than once, even before he'd started working for CTU, back when Tony was still in the service. Enrico had never asked Tony how he'd felt in all these years, hadn't seeked dialogue to uncover the unspoken between them, though it had been obvious that there were things buried inside Tony. And now, Enrico knew that he, too, needed to apologize. Little did he know what to do with all these feelings. He heaved a sigh and almost whispered:

"Tony... Son, I did wrong, and I know it..."

Tony lifted his head, as if about to say something, but Enrico continued. "Please hear me out. I know I haven't always been there for you - or your Mom. When we lost Alicia, my world shattered... I know it hit you hard, too, it was hard for all of us. The thing is..." he let out a small, self-depreciating laugh, "while I was focusing on work, I felt like I was doing something good." He paused to shake his head. "I couldn't do any good at home. I knew if I'd stayed there with Rosita, I'd fall apart, I couldn't be her strength - I had none left in me to begin with... This sounds awfully cold, Tony, but I couldn't bear to look at your mother. Every time I did, I saw Alicia..."

His throat tightened and he had to take a heavy breath before he was able to continue.

"I thought the only good I could do was in hospital, trying to help others, people not related to me in any way; impersonal, work relationships were the only thing I could handle at the time. I knew that Mom had _you_ to be there with her... I was thankful for you. I'm sorry to have caused you all this pain. Sorry if you felt left alone..."

Enrico's voice trailed off. His eyes were pooling and he closed them, his fingers pressed to his eyes, ashamed of himself, feeling like he'd failed Tony as a father.

"Dad, don't apologize to me, please. You don't have to do that." Tony replied softly, looking at his father slumped on the couch. He reached out, placing a hand on Enrico's knee. "It's my fault, for bringing all this up again. I shouldn't have reopened those wounds."

Enrico resolved to pull himself together. He took a deep breath and covered Tony's hand with his own. "No, Tony. We should have talked this over years ago. It's funny that it took us fourteen years to finally sit down and talk like adults. And we might not even have done it if it wasn't for Mom." he said with a faint smile, his eyes on something in the distance. "She's an angel, she always has been."

"Yeah, she is." Tony nodded. She had obviously been his angel, too. He paused for a while, pondering on what he wanted to say. "Look, Dad. What Mom did is help me realize that people make mistakes. What I accused you of were your mistakes." He let out a laugh, "I've made my own share of mistakes, we both know that... I know that Alicia's death hit you hard, I really know that _now_. I should have understood that you had your own way to cope with the grief. I'm sorry I attacked you that way, Dad. I truly am."

"Looks like we both make quite good jerks, don't we..." Enrico mumbled, more to himself, then, with a serious expression on his face, looked back at Tony. "Forgive me, son."

"I do forgive you. And I hope you can do the same for me." Tony replied, finding his father's eyes again, his eyes reflecting guilt as well as hope.

"I do, son. I do." he whispered, his eyes watering again. Enrico extended his hand towards Tony and stood. A second later, Tony stood too, and took his father's hand in a firm handshake, then Enrico pulled Tony into a fatherly embrace.

Even a strong man had a limit, and a few tears rolled off his cheek and onto Tony's shirt. But with these tears the pain was flowing away, and they felt liberating, in the same way as it was to finally feel a closeness to his son again, a connection, like family should be. Literally feeling the weight come off of their shoulders, Tony and Enrico held on to each other for a while, and it felt right. When they finally let go and pulled back, they both had relieved smiles on their faces and watery eyes.

"Come on, son. Let your old man make you a cup of coffee." Enrico then said.

"Let's do it together, Dad."

"All right." Enrico smiled and they walked to the kitchen.

* * *

**Day 23 **

Michelle's office phone rang and she picked it up. The security guard informed her: "Ms Dessler, Mr Buchanan from CTU Seattle has arrived."

"Send him in. I'll be right down." she said. Hanging up the phone, she took a breath and stood, walking out of her office and down the stairs to meet Buchanan.

He had just walked onto the main office floor when she arrived.

"Bill." she greeted him, extending her hand which he took.

"Michelle." he smiled.

"Welcome." They shook hands, and a moment of silence passed before Michelle breathed in again and spoke. "Well, this is your new workspace, then. I don't remember, Bill, have you ever been here before?"

"Once, briefly, for internal training. Years ago, though." he replied, scanning the area. "It's changed a lot."

"Yeah, I can imagine." She began walking and Bill followed her. "I'll show you around later, let's go to my office."

* * *

Bill and Michelle were in Michelle's office and Michelle had prepared some files she wanted to go through with Bill right at the start. She had put them on the glas table and offered him a seat. 

"Thanks." Bill said, but hesitated a second before moving away from one of the window panes looking down at the main floor.

Michelle waited patiently until he turned to her . "Do you like it?"

"It depends." he answered ambiguously and walked towards the sitting corner.

"On what?"

"Let's sit." Bill now said and Michelle took a seat on the couch. Bill sat down right next to her and let out a long breath.

"Michelle." he then began, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at her. "I didn't get a chance to ask you, and frankly, I wouldn't have wanted to do it over the phone anyway. So, before we go into any specifics here, I'd like to know where you stand."

"On what?"

"On my being here." he said, his eyes on her. She looked a bit surprised, but probably just at the fact he'd asked. "Look, I am really looking forward to working with you. But if this is in any way awkward for you, I hope you know you can tell me that, and I'll go back to Seattle right now."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well," he let out a small laugh, "I know how I acted back in Seattle, and the truth is, I do care about you, you know that. When we spoke about a month ago, I got the feeling you weren't too comfortable... Bottom line is, I value our friendship highly and I don't want anything to screw it up. So, if you think that my being here day after day might, just tell me."

Michelle glanced at her shoes, then looked back at Bill. "No. No, I don't think it will." she smiled. "Nothing really happened in Seattle, and to be honest, it can't hurt to have a friend close by."

He picked up a trace of heaviness, maybe a little nervousness in her voice. "Michelle, is anything wrong?"

"No. No, I just mean in general." she replied through a smile. It wasn't the complete truth and she was already kicking herself mentally for appearing soft. But around Buchanan, she at least knew it wouldn't be held against her. They indeed were friends, there was no need to pretend.

Buchanan eyed her for a second, now smiling, too. "Okay. You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right?"

"Of course. Thanks." _I probably will. But not now, and not here_.

"All right. Then I guess we can get to work."

She took a breath. "Yeah, let's start with the personnel."

"Okay."

Michelle took a file folder from the table and opened it.

"One more thing." Bill uttered. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but with your experience and seniority at CTU, I'm sure Brass asked you first to take over. Why did you turn it down?"

Michelle lay the folder on the glass table in front of them. She stood, pacing the office. _Should I tell him? How much should I tell him? He needs to know something, he'll find out from the reports anyway, better if he hears it from me_.

She made a decision. "How much do you know about the events that took place here in LA about a month ago? The day we last spoke."

Bill sat up and leaned back on the couch. "I've read the official reports. I know there was a threat on former President Palmer's life, as well as a chemical threat against the city of Los Angeles, among others. I know Jack Bauer was involved in resolving the situation, as was your husband. And that it boiled down to being a personal vendetta of a man named Dan Morgan as a payback for the death of Sherry Palmer and his brother."

"In a nutshell, yes. What do you know about Tony's involvement?"

"That he helped us by going undercover with one of Morgan's associates, I can't remember the name -"

"Ragen."

"Ragen, right. Tony got injured in the process but still helped us with the Palmer crisis after coming out of surgery."

Michelle sat down in her office chair, away from Bill. "Yeah. And the answer to your question lies in what happened thereafter. It's not in the official reports yet because it's still part of an ongoing investigation. It's being kept strictly internal. But since you're here now, you need to know about it."

"All right. I'm listening."

Michelle glanced away for just a second. "After CTU had apprehended some of Ragen's men at their compound, Brad Hammond went to Federal to question them. I'm sure he knew exactly what he was looking for; in any case, he was very willing to trust the word of a single terrorist who implicated Tony in Ragen's operation. Brad took Tony into custody. He refused to check any evidence that could have exonerated Tony. Brad interrogated him, pushing him to the limit."

Michelle had to breathe in and pause. She felt herself stiffen inside, she attempted to harden herself before falling apart. Bill sensed how hard this was on her, and stood, slowly walking towards her. He sat down on a chair opposite her, and just as he did, she spoke again.

"Tony's body had been weakened by earlier injuries... During the interrogation, Brad... Brad killed him." She paused, a grave silence taking over the dim office. Fighting the lump inside her throat, she forced herself to quickly add, "They revived him instantly, and then let him recover, but Bill, _our own people_... Our own people had killed my husband."

"I'm sorry." Bill uttered, gently touching her arm.

Michelle suddenly couldn't take it anymore. She had been strong, she had not told anyone, she had not allowed her feelings to get in the way of her doing her job, nor had she let these horrifying debriefs take over command of her head while she was at home, but somehow, the wall between the two parts of her mind seemed to be breaking down, at least at this moment. She felt her eyes tear up and hit a switch on her desk, causing the glass around her office to appear dark from the outside. At that moment she started to softly cry.

Bill stood and went behind her chair. He held her shoulders gently, feeling bad for her. Michelle wasn't really aware of his hands on her, although there was some comfort in them. "I'm sorry." Bill whispered.

"That's not all." Michelle continued, swallowing a small sob just in time. "It's all in here." She held the file with the debriefs for Bill to take. She couldn't force herself to tell the whole story, it would be best told by the written word.

As Bill took the file and went back to his chair, Michelle fought with herself to regain her composure, taking a long shuddering breath, wiping away the moisture underneath her eyes. "Bottom line is... After everything, I couldn't with clear conscience take Brad's job, even if I'd wanted to. I couldn't justify it before myself, let alone explain it to Tony. I didn't... didn't want it to appear like I had profited from what had happened to him..." her voice trailed off. Slightly ashamed, she whispered, "Sorry..."

Bill held her hand and she didn't pull it back. "No, no." he said softly. "It's okay. I understand... You can't keep it all in, or it will crush you." He spoke from experience.

A quiet minute passed while the tears in Michelle's eyes dried and she finally lifted her eyes to look at Bill again.

"So how's Tony coping?" he then asked.

"He's suffering." she said plainly. "He's trying to keep it away from me, but I can see it. And I don't know how to help."

"Maybe you can't. It just takes time."

"Yeah..."

Now Michelle slowly stood, again moving to the sofa where she'd left the personnel file. Before picking it up, she said, "Thank you for listening."

"No problem."

With the file in her hand, Michelle again walked over to her desk. "Shall we?"

Bill sat up in the chair, "Yeah."

* * *

**Day 24 **

"That was Michelle." Tony said as he slipped his cell phone back into his jacket pocket. "She said she'll be on her way soon."

Enrico nodded with a smile, "Good. Then we'd better go back too."

"Yeah." Tony agreed and took a long breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs. He and his father, having gone for a walk, were sitting on a bench on a small hill not too far from the house. The sun was past the zenith, slowly on its way down its arch. "Also," Tony added with a slight grin, "she wished for burgers tonight. Think you can work your magic?"

Enrico laughed. "Oh, Tony, didn't you teach your wife to eat properly? Burgers?" he echoed, pulling a face as if he felt queasy.

Now it was Tony's turn to laugh. "Nah, I'm kidding. She wanted enchilladas. I think we can manage that, right?"

Enrico pointed a finger at Tony, grinning. "Boy, you'll never learn. Did I never manage to drive that prankster out of you?"

Tony was the youngest child of the family, but from an early age, he'd played pranks on everyone, including their mother. Their father was - thanks to the authority he possessed, and the fact that he was rarely even at home - exempted from being a target of Tony's practical jokes, but that never stopped Enrico from dealing with Tony once he'd found out about them; like the one time - a rare occasion that actually wasn't Tony's idea - when all four children hid, trying (and succeeding) to make Rosita believe they'd been kidnapped. Tony's reputation had singled him out as the culprit, of course, though he'd been only five years old back then.

Or the time when - and this had in fact been Tony's work - all chickens and geese on their grandfather's farm were suddenly drunk. Tony had found fermented cherries and fed them to the birds. They ate and ate and eventually every single one of them dropped to the ground; they looked dead when Granpa came out of the house to close them in for the night.

Nevertheless, Tony had loved his father as a child, and knew Enrico had loved him back, even if he had made Tony run and try to hide from Enrico's sense of justice every now and then.

Tony gave a small grin in return and replied: "Not quite, Dad, not quite. And as for Michelle, she does know how to eat healthy, she just doesn't cook. We discovered quite quickly it's best she leaves that to me."

"Hehe, yeah, I've noticed." Enrico replied, then tapped Tony's thigh. "Come on. Let's go back."

"Yeah." Tony replied, covering his father's hand with his own for a moment, then both of them stood. Enrico zipped up his jacket; a soft, but cool wind was starting to blow and he really didn't need to catch a cold so close to his flight home. Both men had their hands in their pockets as they walked the way to the house in a comfortable silence.

As Tony unlocked the door he put the keys in their usual place on the sideboard, hung his jacket on the coat rack and headed for the kitchen. "We'd better check we got everything we need. There's still time to go to the store if we need something." he said, looking in to the fridge.

"Yeah just let me know, and I'll go get it." Enrico said, heading for the bathroom downstairs. Just as he closed the door, the phone rang.

Tony walked to the phone and answered it, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. "Almeida…. Hey, what's up?... Oh, that's great, congratulations!... Mmm-hm, yeah, that's true... Heh. Yeah, ok………. No, he's not here right now…. Will do... Give her our best…. Yeah."

Enrico came out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen again. Tony still held the phone in his hand as he walked in. "Was that Michelle?"

Tony turned to his father with a grin on his face. "It was Sebastiàn. Looks like you're a grandfather again. Tara just gave birth to a healthy boy, 6 pounds 3 ounces."

Enrico's face lit up at Tony's words. He was now a triple grandfather and this made him proud and very happy. "A boy..." he repeated as a tear of joy formed in the corner of his eye. Tara and Sebastiàn had been trying for a long time, and now finally, after two beautiful girls in the family, there was a boy, a son and heir who would carry on the name Almeida.

"Well, that makes you a proud uncle again. Congratulations." he said, walking up to Tony and as Tony stood, hugged his son. _A boy. We have a boy_. Enrico repeated in his mind.

"Yeah, it does. Thanks." Tony smiled.

Enrico let go and looked at Tony with watery eyes, but they were laughing, not sad.

"So you finally have someone to infect with your passion for Cubs... Though Sebastiàn will do a good job of that, too."

Tony laughed, "Oh, you bet. First thing I'm getting him is a Cubby and a Cubs t-shirt. You know how seriously I take my uncle duties."

"Heh, yeah. And when he's older, you'll send him a bat and a glove."

"Quite likely."

Tony remained standing by the kitchen table as Enrico took a glass and filled it with water, taking a gulp.

"Do you want a drink, just to celebrate a little?" Tony asked.

Enrico thought about this for a second. Yeah, a drink would be nice, but with Tony's history, he didn't want to tempt him.

Tony instantly sensed his father's hesitation and knew it was probably because of him. "It's okay, you know." he asserted.

Enrico smiled. It seemed to him that Tony had his drinking problem in check, he could probably chance it. But even so, drinking alone was no fun. So he replied, "Thanks, maybe later, when Michelle gets here."

"Yeah, all right." Tony nodded. "So, want to start preparing dinner? We got everything but I'm not sure if we got enough onions." he said, going to the sink to wash his hands.

Enrico looked at the basket containing the said vegetables. "That'll do."

The front door opened and Michelle walked in. "Tony?" she called but immediately realized Tony and Enrico were in the kitchen when she heard them talking. Their voices were relaxed, much more so than just a few days ago, and she could see them smile as she walked to the kitchen with a smile of her own. "Evening, you two." she said.

"Hi, Michelle." Enrico turned to her, his eyes still laughing, unable (and unwilling) to hide the joy at the news, and gave her a small hug, then let her make her way to Tony. She reached Tony, putting her arm around him.

"Hey." she gave him a private greeting and a small kiss. In the meantime, Enrico tactfully retreated to the living room and turned on the TV.

"Hey." Tony answered softly and returned the kiss, turning towards her. "How was your day?" he asked, sliding a hand to her waist, glad that she was home a little earlier.

"The usual." she answered quietly, not wanting to spend another minute talking about Division tonight. "I managed to convince them I had a life beyond CTU." she said through a small laugh. "Not sure if they bought it but here I am."

She gave him a slight squeeze, having missed him. "You guys look like you were having fun when I came in; anything you want to share?"

Tony brushed a wayward curl from her eyes and smiled at her. "Well, Sebastián called and told us that he's a father. They have a son."

"Oh, I'm so happy for them!" Michelle exclaimed, still holding on to Tony. "They've wanted this for years. And Enrico must be a very proud grandfather."

Tony smiled at her, slightly tightening his hold on her. "Yeah, he is. He's happy it's a boy, I can tell."

Just by the way he held her, Michelle knew he had something to tell her, too. She looked at him, seeing his own eyes sparkle as he finished speaking, and understood. _So now you're the only one without kids_. She smiled at him, gently caressed his face with one hand, and kissed his cheek.

Tony didn't say anything then because it just didn't feel right, and he didn't want to have the conversation with her when his father was only some ten feet away. But Michelle knew she was right when she and Tony were in bed that night, after the delicious dinner. She had already turned off the light and they lay there, on their side, Tony held her body from behind, passing his hand up and down her arm.

"Honey, you still awake?" Tony asked quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was already falling asleep.

"Mmmh, yeah." she answered, snuggling more into Tony's warmth.

Tony's fingers drew lazy patterns on her arm and he spoke quetly to her. "I know we talked about this when we got married, but things were different then." he started a bit awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. "And talking to Sebástian today made me think of life from another perspective again."

He was quiet for a moment, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. He guessed she knew what he was getting at. "Sweetheart, uhm.. How do you feel about starting a family?"

Michelle took a breath and slowly freed her arm from underneath the pillow, switched on the small lamp on her nightstand, then turned in Tony's arms to face him. She didn't want to have this conversation with him looking at her back. They had talked about this years ago but decided that working at CTU was too dangerous to chance bringing a child into the world; they had seen what had happened to Jack's family, and later, Chloe bringing Chase's daughter Angela to work on that one day had only confirmed Michelle's doubts about being able to actually raise an intact family and have a career at CTU.

Her arm slid to Tony's side, and she looked him in the eye with a small smile. Before she could even reply, it seemed he had read the slight insecurity in her eyes. He moved his hand to her face and hair, caressing her. Speaking softly, he went on.

"We both knew then that it wouldn't have been wise or safe to think about starting a family when we both worked at CTU. Maybe if I had taken that position in Langley, things would be different now." _And if the day had ended differently_,he thought but then blocked that train of thought. _Don't go there now. _He closed his eyes for a brief moment but spoke again, pressing his forehead against hers.

"But that's not a worry anymore. You're in Division now." He left out mentioning his own situation. Division meant no fieldwork for her and much less danger. He hadn't even pondered on this subject much since his release from prison, nor had he realized how much he wanted a family. One of the reasons that brought this thought up so strongly now was his own brush with death mere weeks ago, and the realization that they were almost robbed of the chance of having a family together.

So, he took a breath now, and said what she had expected him to say all along. "I thought that maybe, if we both are comfortable with the thought, we could rethink things now."

Michelle's hand now rose to Tony's face, too, feeling the stubble that had grown there in the past couple of days. She felt herself begin to smile inwardly, but yet somehow felt the need to confirm what she'd just heard. "You want a family, now?"

Now it was Tony's turn to feel insecure. He wasn't sure what she had meant with the question. Had she changed her mind altogether? "Yeah, or someday, hopefully. But I need to know how you feel about this. This concerns both of us." he said earnestly. "And now if you don't want a family, I can live with that, too. I'll still love you, that's why I married you." he finished quietly, his other hand resting on hers on top of the blanket.

While Tony spoke, Michelle thought this over. They had both dreamed of a family years ago, and Tony was right. Division was not involved in field work, and he would go back to a civil job in IT; they both had pure deskjobs now. If they were ever going to start a family, this would probably be the right time. Besides, neither of them was getting any younger. When he fell silent, she smiled at him, "You're too good to me, Tony."

These words moved Tony deeply. Even though he knew she loved him as he did her, hearing her say something like that was balm to his wounds.

She then snuggled up to him a little and kissed the top of his nose. "But I do want a family with you." she then answered.

Relieved and happy, Tony just smiled in response.

He then reached to switch off the lamp, turned to his back and gently pulled her in his arms. "I love you." he whispered into her hair, before closing his eyes. He heard her echo his words just before drifting off to sleep.


	14. A New Beginning

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you for your wonderful reviews, they're so much appreciated and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the new characters, I know I definitely did. Day 27 will be posted in 2 chapters, so part two comes next week ;-). Enjoy.

* * *

**Day 27**

Tony turned off the ignition and just sat in the car for a moment, breathing in deeply and then letting that breath out really slowly. He repeated the process. He glanced towards the entrance, but his hand wouldn't reach for the door latch. The building in front of him was 50 stories high and towered above the parking lot, hiding the morning sun from view. _Mountain._ Tony thought, looking out of the car window and at the shape of the long shadow on the pavement that engulfed his SUV. Inside the mountain waited his new workplace, new duties, new people. _How bout that, Almeida?_ he thought to himself. _There is a world for pardoned traitors outside CTU after all._

Suddenly he felt goose bumps on his neck and let go of the steering wheel. He rubbed his palms together a few times, the friction causing them to warm up a bit. _It's freezing. Like in prison._ he thought. He was always cold and never satiated in the small, confined space that had been his home mere six months ago, bland concrete walls caging his spirit for the next 20 years. Somewhat regular meals - as pathetic as they were - and hope to be allowed to spend the nights in the tiny, hard cot were the only thing he dared to wish for.

"How miserable", he said to the wall of his cell. "To actually _wish_ for this thing." But countless nights in the solitary, brought about by guards' wrath or simple sadism, had taught him to value even that.

He remembered his thoughts as Hammond had thrown him in the cell at Division. "Please let me die. Just let me die." After everything, he lacked strength to even hope to survive.

And yet, he was here now, in his SUV, safely locked in another small space, not daring to leave it although the world he had almost stopped believing in seemed ready to accept him again. _Never thought I'd even get this far..._

A dog barked somewhere close by and Tony moved his head towards the sound. As if awakened, he grabbed the keys from the ignition and opening the car door. _Well, here goes._ Stepping out of the car, he slipped the keys into the pocket of his black slacks, pulled down at his dark blue shirt, adjusted the lapels of the jacket that matched the slacks and put on his coat. Then he walked towards the building and finally through the revolving doors. It took him five large steps to the reception desk where he addressed the security guard, showing him his ID. "Morning. I'm starting work here today. Michael Cook is my contact."

"Yeah, we did get a notification that he had a visitor coming." the guard replied.

Tony stood calmly by the reception desk, although his eyes vigilantly scanned the reception area while the other man checked the ID against the data he'd been given.

"All right, just wait over there and I'll call him to let him know you're here." the guard finally said after a few moments, handing the card back to Tony and giving a small nod towards the few chairs in the lobby.

"Thank you."

Tony put the ID back to his wallet and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He walked over to the chairs, but didn't sit down. He rather looked around, at the finely polished granite walls in the lobby and the light reflecting down from the tall windows. It was so unlike CTU where Tony'd spent so many years that he almost thought of CTU's dim, concrete, bunker-like spaces as the norm - not this. In the meantime, the security guard picked up the phone and had a brief conversation.

A minute or two later, a six foot tall man with black hair and skin the color of finest milk chocolate stepped out of the elevator, approaching Tony. He wore a small moustache, and a dark blue suit but no tie. Michael and Jack shared a part of history, but the lines on his face weren't as deeply carved into his skin, the half-moons under his eyes were nowhere near as deep and dark as on Jack's face, and the look in his eyes wasn't life-threatening. Even if he hadn't left the Army decades ago, he still would have looked years younger than his former comrade.

Coming through the double glass doors, extending his hand, Michael smiled, and spoke in a professional, friendly voice. "Welcome, Mr. Almeida."

Tony returned the greeting with a firm handshake. "Thank you. I really appreciate your patience on this."

The smile stayed on. "No problem. We appreciate the help."

"Thank you, Dave." Michael called to the guard, as he began to walk back inside and Tony followed him.

"So, are you fully recovered now?" he then asked Tony while stepping into the elevator, pushing the button for the 23rd floor.

_More or less_, Tony thought. His healing ribs still caused minor aches and pains, especially if he made a wrong move, but the discomfort was lessening and Tony felt able to work, physically in any case. Emotionally, it was not as clear cut. Though things with Michelle were okay just now, ghosts and demons inside him still surfaced, mostly at night, and that scared him. But he looked at Michael and replied: "Yeah, I am."

"Good." the younger man replied.

The elevator rocketed up, and within seconds, the doors opened. The two men stepped out and into an open-plan office, not unlike any other. It even bore some similarity to CTU because for some reason, an elevated area accessible by about 5 steps held Michael's own office; its upper half was completely out of glass, whereas the lower half was of some grey, non see-through material, allowing him some privacy. _Big Brother is watching_, Tony thought.

Also unlike CTU, the lights on the floor were white and much brighter, there were windows allowing natural light in, and the desks were separated from each other by more distance than the bullpen at CTU had allowed for. The dominant colors were brown and grey with black chairs by the desks. Michael had decided against using cubicles to separate the desks, so that people could actually see each other while working, feel more like a team, and to promote cooperation, so the space felt open. The floors were carpeted and not bare concrete like at CTU, and some effort had been put in to make the place look relatively friendly and not cold and dry. But despite the occasional plant and color paintings on the wall, it remained an office. _No family pictures on the desks_. Tony noticed,_ Private life - banned_.

As they made their way across the room, some of the employees looked up from their screens or conversation partners, eyeing the new addition to the team. Tony pretended not to feel their stares on him and instead walked next to Michael with his back straight and his footsteps firm, not seeking eye contact with anyone in particular, but not averting his eyes first if he did meet someone's gaze. Michael led Tony to a terminal somewhere in the middle of the room. The computer screen faced the office, and whoever sat at the desk would have a nice view of the city below.

"Well, this will be your workstation." Michael said briefly, then looked around. "Uhm... Esther." he called out to a woman sitting just two desks over. Her waist-long, hay-colored hair shone a light on the dark purple costume she wore, and all the make up her fine features needed was a slight touch of mascara. She had the waist and legs of Esther Williams in her best days, and the nickname Swim Queen that stuck with her since the day she won the first of many swim competitions in her childhood. As Michael called her name, she turned to the voice, and, spotting Tony, fixed her ocean-blue eyes on his, before smiling and gliding across the floor towards them.

"Hi. Esther Wagner." she pronounced her name in German while shaking Tony's hand, easily matching the firmness of his handshake with her own.

"Tony Almeida. Nice to meet you." he replied with a smile touching his lips.

The sound of Tony's voice touched seemed to carry her away for a second, almost making her heart skip a beat, but she didn't get a chance to say anything further, because Michael did.

"Mr. Almeida is starting here today. I hope you two will work well together." he said to Esther, who just nodded in response, then turned to Tony again. "There's a staff meeting at 10. I can't be there, but Esther will show you around and introduce you to the team. She'll also help you make yourself familiar with our systems. You have appropriate security clearance and you should be getting your keycard in a couple of hours. It's being delivered today for security reasons."

_Security reasons?_ Tony thought with a small shred of doubt. _Why? _But he decided not to ask out loud. "All right. That sounds good. I take it your system administrators have created all the necessary accounts?"

"Yes, it's all been taken care of. You should be set to go." Michael responded, checked his watch, then added. "Well, I'll let the two of you get to work. I'll be in my office if you do need anything. Oh, and Mr. Almeida, I'd like to talk to you in the afternoon, in any case, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir."

"Have a good start." With those words, Michael went up to his office.

Tony's scar itched and he scratched his neck while he watched Michael leave. Esther remained at his workstation, waiting, unostentaneous by nature, until Tony looked at her again.

"I'm Esther, by the way." she then offered.

Tony gave a small smile. "Thanks, most people call me Tony."

"Hi Tony." Esther smiled, then glanced at the floor to her right for no apparent reason; Tony wasn't sure if she blushed. But her eyes quickly returned to Tony. Finally, she gestured for him to sit down and pulled another chair to his desk for herself.

"Please, take a seat."

He did, and Esther logged in to the computer at his desk. "First thing we need to do is log you in so you can change your initial passwords, then we can start to work."

"Yeah." Tony replied.

"Don't worry, I won't look." she added, but the attempt at a small joke went unnoticed by Tony because, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a keg walk over to them. The newcomer wasn't taller than two chairs stacked on top of each other, shuffling his feet on the floor slightly as he approached Tony's desk. His skin was no less pale than mozzarella cheese: his own sister always called him Paleface. Now, in his late thirties, his grey hair was thinning remarkably, while his ears seemed to pull a Dumbo and the thick black rim of the plastic eye glasses on his nose shouted loudly for help.

"Hey. Is that the new guy?" Dumbo asked casually as he stopped by Tony's desk, his hands in his pockets.

"Yes. This is Tony Almeida. That's Nathan Connor." Her eyes lingered on Tony while she added, "Nathan is our IS Security Manager."

"Hey." Tony smiled, offering his hand.

Nathan took it briefly, but his handshake had the firmness of jelly, so Tony was glad to let go soon.

"So, you're the Systems Analyst." Nathan stated to Tony, pushing his right palm into his pocket again.

"Yeah. I guess I am." Tony said, slightly turning with the chair, his elbow on the armrest, left hand on his chin. _And you're the guy who's here to put me in my place_, he thought. _Don't worry, I'm not after your turf_. Having dealt with the Nathans of this world often enough, Tony read them like a book. Short, ugly, bald, all they had were their ranks and positions and guys like Tony were simply a threat to the nathankind. Tony chuckled inwardly as the image of late Ryan Chapelle entered his mind.

But this Nathan remained standing, tapping his foot against the floor a few times while his eyes remained on Tony, unmoving. Esther shifted in the chair, and Tony held Nathan's stare for a few seconds, but then crossed his arms. _What the hell else do you want?_

Nathan took a quick breath, glanced away for a second. "Yeah, well, have a good start. I won't keep you. Need something, come to me." he added in what Tony considered to be shorthand for _'And if you find that you're not as smart as you think you are, and get stuck in my network, I'll be more than happy to show you where you screwed up.'_

"Sure, thanks." Tony smiled professionally, and Nathan turned away and walked back to where he'd come from.

"Don't mind him. He sometimes thinks he's running the place." Esther told Tony, shaking her head slightly at Nathan's attitude.

"Yeah." Tony scratched his face. _Been there before._

Esther then seemed to change her mind and locked the terminal. "Look, why don't we go introduce you to everyone, so we can get this theater over with. What do you say?" she offered, watching Nathan walk back to a group of three at the other end of the room.

_Just as well. _"Yeah, all right. Sounds fine to me."

"Okay, let's go."

The two of them stood and Tony gave a small sigh as they walked to one end of the room to play the introduction game.

At the other end of the office, Nathan was being questioned by his three colleagues. "Almeida, you say?" asked Andy, an almost 30 year old programmer in jeans and an iron-free checked flannel shirt that was so perfect for cleaning his damn glasses that always got so smudged. He took them off his nose to wipe the glasses clean while waiting for Nathan's answer.

"Yeah. Tony Almeida." Nathan confirmed.

Cory, another programmer, a recent college grad, was next to Andy. He wore his lion's mane red and wild (underneath the baseball cap which he wore the wrong way out of principle) and his acne with pride. Baggy khaki pants almost falling off his bony hips, blue Hawaii shirt, sneakers stained with the dust from last night's practice session on the halfpipe, his streetstyle was certainly not what got him the position at the company. He glanced up from his cell phone keyboard for a second to question, "Did he say where he worked before?"

"No. But I didn't ask."

Andy interjected, still busy with his glasses. "How did he seem? Nervous?"

"Nah. He's no beginner, you know."

Finally, Felix, usually called "Fix" by everyone in the loop (for his fast and competent solutions to every IT problem), decided to say something, too. "He has to be proficient enough, or Michael wouldn't have hired him."

Of the four men, Felix was dressed the best. Black slacks, dark yellow long-sleeved button-down shirt, no tie, but that was hanging in his locker, ready just in case. In his mid-40s, he was something like the Go To person for most of the younger staff; a true troubleshooter, in charge of support to internal and external customers.

"Yeah, but as Systems Analyst? Man, you'd think a guy his age should be higher on the food chain." Cory's cell phone produced a vibrating sound confirming sending of the message and he slipped it back into his pocket.

Felix rolled his eyes slightly at the latest comment. "Oh, shut up, Skaterboy. Maybe he doesn't _want to_ be higher on the food chain. Not everyone's as ambitious as you." _little worm_, he added in his mind.

"Yeah, whatever." Cory looked past Nathan and said nothing further.

"Sorry to interrupt your little gossip club." It was Esther's voice and the four men, all smiles, turned towards her and Tony. "I'd like to introduce you to Tony Almeida. This is Cory, Felix, and Andy." she continued, gesturing towards each of them as she spoke. "And you've already met Nathan..."

_...The Turf Defender_, Tony added inwardly. "Yeah. Hey guys."

"Hey yourself, man." Cory felt for his cell phone that vibrated in his left pocket but shook Tony's hand very briefly with his right at the same time.

Andy nodded towards Tony during an irresolute handshake. "Hey."

"Welcome. Have a good start." Felix looked Tony in the eye and gripped his hand firmly for a second before letting go.

"Thanks. Well, I'll see you guys around."

When Esther and Tony moved on, Felix broke up the congregation. "All right, y'all, go do some work." The practiced smiles disappeared as the group obediently swarmed out and sat behind their desks.

After the staff meeting Tony worked closely with Esther to get acquiainted with all things systems security and the network, and learned in more detail what his exact duties would be.

His keycard was delivered during the morning as promised, and as he picked it up he couldn't help but ask Dave the security guard, "Uhm, I'd like to know if this is standard procedure around here."

"Yeah it is." Dave said, to Tony's relief. "See, Mr. Cook prefers being overtly cautious than doing less than necessary and then ending up in a mess. Keycards are ordered well in advance but only delivered on the day the new employee actually starts work. If the person doesn't show up, neither does the keycard."

"I see." Tony said and handed Dave the signed form, getting his keycard in exchange.

"So, this way there are no unused keycards lying around and Mr. Cook feels safer."

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks." Tony said and simultaneously felt the shred of doubt in his mind disappear.

The afternoon was spent getting more information from Esther and around 4pm, Michael called Tony to his office. Tony knocked and after a "Come in." from Michael, entered.

"Mr. Almeida. Take a seat." Michael immediately offered.

Tony did. "Thanks."

"So, Mr. Almeida, how was your first day?" Michael asked, casually leaned back in his tall leather chair.

"It was good." Tony replied from the chair opposite Michael's. "I got to know most people. Ms Wagner was very helpful, and I think I got acquainted with the basics of the system pretty well already."

"That's good." Michael smiled. "I don't doubt you'll do a good job, Mr. Almeida. Not with your experience."

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you feel comfortable working with Ms Wagner?"

"Yes, I do. She seems very competent and she's very friendly."

Michael nodded. "She is. She speaks some Spanish, by the way, I think she likes to practice it when she can."

Tony gave a slight grin, for a moment imagining the professional Esther Wagner in a fiery red dress and a sombrero, sipping Tequilla and dancing on a table. "Oh, she didn't tell me that. Good to know."

Michael was right. Esther loved Spanish. She loved Spain. "When I left Fred," her boyfriend of five years, "I actually made arrangements to move to Madrid instead." she told him over lunch one day. "I wanted the sun and the rhythm, you know? But then I figured, bad luck in love, good luck in game, and decided to try for a Green Card, even though my family could not come along."

"And now you're here."

"Yeah. When I won it, America seemed like an opportunity I couldn't pass up on."

Michael looked down at the office floor, seeing Esther at her desk. As if she felt his gaze on her, she glanced up for a moment before turning her eyes back to her computer screen. Finally, he gave Tony his full attention again.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer. You probably want to wrap things up. No need to do overtime on your first day."

"Thank you, sir."

Michael stood first, and when Tony followed, they shook hands. "And thank you again for the chance."

"Don't worry about it. You deserve one."

Tony left Michael's office and as he descended the stairs, let his eyes view the office from end to end. _Well, that went pretty well. He seems to have faith in me. Let's just hope I can live up to the expectations._ he thought. He wasn't afraid the job would be too much to handle, he knew he could do it. But something seemed to hang in the air, something he couldn't quite put his finger to. Taking the last steps towards his desk, he turned his head to the side. _This office... Something is missing_. he thought. To his right, a woman with thick brown hair in a bun stood with her back to him, and he understood: _Michelle. _

What was missing, was Michelle.


	15. A New Beginning, II

**A/N: **sorry if the actual storyline doesn't seem too surprising, but think back at what this actually is... just enjoy the written piece for what it is ;-) and thanks for reading - & reviewing if you do :-) uhm, eh, and... this chapter is rated **T**.

* * *

**Day 27**, after work

Tony stepped out of the revolving doors and pulled his coat closed, holding it tightly against himself. Leaves and trash danced in circles slightly above the ground in the cold wind. The street lights flickered just as he left the building and began to shine a light onto the pavement. The seemingly solid, dark gray layer above him was about to break, he could tell, he wouldn't make it home before rain. He activated the unlock button on his car key and the SUV blinked twice in response.

Just then, something small and cold hit his neck and rolled down his back, chilling him momentarily before being absorbed by his clothes. "Damn it." he muttered to himself, touching his neck reflexively. When another raindrop hit his face, Tony brushed it away but quickened up his pace; by the time he took off his coat and was safely in the vehicle, the single drops had turned into sad crying of a seemingly lone giant cloud that covered the sky.

--

The rain pounded on the windshield now with the persistence of a shower head left running and Tony switched on the wipers. Water was starting to pool on the curbside. _Is Michelle home yet?_ he suddenly wondered. He contemplated calling her for a second or two but didn't. He was always uncomfortable with her driving in bad weather conditions, but all she ever replied to such comments was, 'I'm a big girl, Tony.' He would go out of his way ten times to accommodate her once, and each of those times would be worth it. But Michelle could take care of herself, he knew that, though the fact didn't make him feel any better.

Yet another traffic light ahead suddenly turned to red. Tony's foot came down on the brakes, managing to come to a stop before the crossroads. "Son of a bitch..."

It seemed that for every moment he spent waiting for the green signal, more raindrops per second fell from the sky. When he finally drove off again, they hammered in staccato against the glass and the metal, going from forte to fortissimo in a matter of minutes. Tony gave the wiper lever a decisive push, and tried to see the street through the wild dance of the wipers and the dense curtain of water that seemed to close off the area around him. The next bumper was thirty feet ahead, the next headlights many feet behind, how far, he couldn't really tell from the mirror. Traffic was creeping forward like a row of two-toed sloths, an animal Michelle invariably dragged him to during visits to the zoo. Tony loved her for her love of laziness every once in a while, but really saw no point in admiring an animal that was _always_ lazy. He preferred cheetahs; they were majestic, quick and dangerous and had his full attention, in the zoo and on Discovery Channel alike.

Accidents were likely in this weather so Tony turned on the radio. The drumming of the rain was loud, and the reception hardly satisfying, so he turned up the volume. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the rain intensified further. No longer could single drops be distinguished; a constant flow of water washed over the windshield and the vehicle. _Thanks for the car wash_. he thought. _Can I go home now?_

Squinting to see through the veil of rain, he thought he saw something in the middle of the road but then it disappeared. A car overtook him and he glanced towards it for a fraction of a second; when he turned his eyes back to the street, as if out of nowhere, a shape of a woman with a small umbrella above her head stood in his headlights. Adrenaline shot through him, sending an instant wave of sweat all over his body. Instinctively hitting the brakes, the tires suddenly squealing, he just about managed to bring the SUV to a sliding halt on the wet asphalt before he hit her. The woman remained standing where she was, momentarily stunned, staring towards the car, but then moved to the side. Warning lights on, after overcoming the initial shock, the realization that he had managed to avoid a serious accident hit him. Tony drove the SUV to the curbside. Hastily, he stepped out of the vehicle, getting drenched by the cold rain by the time he reached her.

"You all right?" he shouted even while approaching her.

From the woman's umbrella, a waterfall flowed steadily to the ground. A car slowly passed Tony's SUV and rolled further into the rain, the passengers glaring out towards the two people on the sidewalk.

"Don't you have eyes in your head?" The woman raised her head to look at his face.

The voice sounded familiar, but in the rain and almost dim light he couldn't make out her features. She had tied her long, blonde hair close to her head to keep it dry but her small umbrella was no match for the hard rain; her clothes were wet from her feet to her shoulders. Only when he stood right by her could Tony confirm what he suspected. The woman, however, she reacted first, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Verdammt... Tony?"

Tony brushed wet hair from his forehead and eyes. "Hey..." He finally uttered, standing there with his hands loosely on his hips. "Uhm..." he looked away for a moment. "Sorry about that. I didn't plan to thank you for today by running you over..." he said with guilt in his voice.

Esther laughed, putting her umbrella over Tony's head.

"Not that it makes any difference _now_..." Tony said through a chuckle, water already having dampened his skin completely.

"Well, you _are_ gonna have to take me home in return." she smirked and at the trace of a questioning look in his eyes, added, "My car broke down. I was going to walk but I'll take a ride."

"Sure." he nodded with a smile of his own. "Least I can do."

--

Tony drove slowly and carefully through the rain that slightly began to ease. He turned into a side street, then, not averting his eyes from the road, stated, "Michael dice que hablas español."

Esther was tying her wet hair into something similar to a pony tail. "Sí, correcto. Me gusta el idioma." she answered promptly, delighted at the opportunity.

Tony smiled, remembering his efforts to teach Michelle a word or two of Spanish before they got married, but always ending up making love with her instead, and cooing _te quiero_'s in her ear.

Esther kept her eyes on Tony while he watched the street. "¿De donde vienes?"

"Chicago." Not letting go of the wheel, Tony pointed an index finger to the Cubs sticker in a corner of his windshield and gave a deliberate shrug, as if apologizing.

"Oh..." Esther let out a small breath as something on his hand flashed.

Tony glanced at her before turning to the street again. "What? Not a baseball fan?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't know you were married."

He looked at the wedding band on his finger. _Yeah, I am... _he thought. _And Michelle has no idea where I am right now_. He was going to reply somehow but she spoke first.

"Just turn right over there, it's where I live."

Tony obeyed and stopped the SUV in front of the house. The rain was just rain now and no longer armageddon.

"Well, thanks for the ride." she said with a small smile and sad eyes. "Good night."

Esther opened the car door and was about to quickly duck into the house, but Tony followed her and stepped inside, too.

"You don't have to bring me upstairs." she said.

"Well, after almost killing you I want to make sure you do arrive there safely." _but then I have to go home. Immediately._

At a window on the other side of the street, a silver haired man in sweatpants and sleeveless white shirt stood. As the two figures ducked inside the building, he narrowed his eyes, squinting through the glasses on his nose, trying to recognize the make and color of the car. _Was that Tony? _he thought. _Who's the woman?_

_Wait until they come out again_. he said to himself. _Or he. _

But then a phone rang at the other end of the room, and he went to pick it up.

"Bill, my server is acting up again, can you help?" an annoyed voice with a touch of stress asked.

"Yeah, hold on. I have to start up the computer."

In passing the window, Buchanan took another look at the street. Tony's car was still there. He mentally noted the time, hurried to his desk, switched on the computer and sat in the chair.

By the time he finished troubleshooting for his sister in Seattle, the SUV was gone.

--

Tony sighed slightly as he stepped inside the house, closing the door between warmth and seemingly freezing cold behind him. He ran his fingers through his still wet hair, a small yawn escaping him when he threw his keys on the sideboard by the door. _Well, I survived the first day_, he thought with an inner smile, then added, somewhat grimly, _and an apocalypse. _

The humidity on his skin felt quite uncomfortable, it felt as if he were wrapped in some kind of a slime, like a slug's trail. Though once used to rain in the field, these weren't the kind of clothes he'd normally wear there. The slacks, the shirt, the jacket, they all felt at least twice as heavy as normal, and he couldn't wait to undress. With an annoyed look on his face, he hung his wet coat on the coat rack and removed his soaked shoes, then peeled the socks off his feet.

He wanted to get rid of the clothes instantly, but the smell of chicken and spice called him to the kitchen, and he knew he'd find Enrico there.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey there." Enrico greeted him as he saw him walk through the door. Then he noticed Tony looked like he'd been thrown into a swimming pool with his clothes on. "Jesus, Tony, what happened to you?"

"Armageddon." Tony replied, scratching the back of his neck. His father was still looking at him, so he gave him a little more. "I had to park the car outside. Got caught in the worst rain, forgot something at the office, and had to go back inside, getting double drenched in the process. Great timing, of course, as usual."

"Better get changed soon, you don't wanna catch a cold."

"Yeah, well, if I don't have pneumonia already, I'm not gonna catch it _inside _the house."

Enrico nodded, stirring the chicken in the pan, while Tony strolled to the sink, filling a glass with tap water. "What are you cooking?"

"Chicken tamales. The way we make it at the restaurant." Enrico replied with a smile. "How was work?"

Tony took a gulp of water. "Mmh, it was all right. Seemed like a nice place."

"Good... Hope you don't mind me cooking. I thought since I'm leaving tomorrow, I might as well put in an effort one last time."

Tony sat the glass on the counter, "No, no, that's fine."

Enrico checked the oven temperature. "Michelle will be here soon. You wanna get changed before she does?" he continued, looking at Tony.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go take a shower." Tony replied and turned to go upstairs.

As soon as he left the kitchen, he began to unbutton his shirt. Collecting his socks on the way, he got to thinking again about the day. Things were suddenly, truly different and looking good. He had a job; it certainly wasn't his dream job - especially since he seemed to be back at square one career-wise - but odds were that things would develop nicely. The place wasn't CTU, but then again, no place would ever be.

Tony suddenly laughed out. _Just what _exactly_ do you miss about CTU, Almeida, huh?_ he thought._ Chloe? Hammond? The holding cell? _He reached the top of the stairs, and took off the wet shirt. _That's what it is, isn't it. You liked the interrogation, didn't you. You miss that bastard with his accusations._

"Stop it!" he murmured to himself, closing the bathroom door behind him. "Damn it, Almeida, this is over!" he told the man in the mirror in front of him, resting his palms on the sink. Twice, he breathed in and out slowly, then whispered, "It's in the past."

Taking another breath, he echoed his last words, then let go of the sink and finished undressing. Stepping into the shower, he turned on the water and stood underneath the shower head. The initial drops were cold, almost as cold as the rain had been and he shivered momentarily, but soon the water became comfortably warm, massaging his skin gently with its many fingers as if consciously attempting to relax his tense muscles. Closing his eyes, he listened to the drumming of the clean water around him, imagining the filth from the L.A. smog peeling off of his skin.

--

Tony was still upstairs when Michelle arrived. Seeing his coat on the coat rack, she called into the house. "Tony?"

"He's upstairs." Enrico replied instead. "Hi Michelle."

"Hi Enrico." Michelle appeared at the kitchen door but didn't walk in. "Mmmhm. Smells great, what is it?"

"Something good. You'll see."

"Always mysterious, aren't you." she said with a big smile.

Enrico just smiled back.

She would have offered to help, but she knew better. "I'll go find Tony." she then added.

Michelle walked up the stairs with only her nylons on her feet, as quietly as a cat. She saw the bathroom door ajar, an increase in air humidity outside it told her Tony had taken a shower. "Tony, I'm home." she called out softly, so as not to startle him. A big grin covered her face._ If you hurry, you might catch him in a towel_.

"I'm in here." Tony called, standing by the sink, rubbing the soft stubble on his cheeks with both his hands. As he saw Michelle enter he pulled her into a hug with one arm and kissed her cheek from the side.

"Hey." he said quietly to her ear.

"Hey."

She slid her hands to his back, completely turning him to her, while his arms wrapped around her shoulders. His skin was soft, still quite warm and humid from the water, the fresh odor arising from his chest betraying his favorite shower gel. Looking him in the eye while pulling him closer, she brought her lips close to his, planting a soft kiss on them. "Did you miss me?"

"Always." Tony replied, breathing in the Herbal Essences scent from her hair. That particular scent, fruity and sweet, it could always drive him nuts - in a good way. "I should probably get dressed." he continued with a smile, but didn't relinquish his hold on her.

"As far as I'm concerned, you don't..." she grinned whimsically. "But being that your father's downstairs, it might be a good idea."

"Mm-hmm. Yeah, probably." He replied, kissing her once more as they parted, and, holding her by a hand, went to the bedroom to get dressed.

Michelle sat on the bed. "So, how was your first day? Did you meet everybody? Do you like the job?"

_Do you miss working with me?_ Michelle added in her mind. She had been working at Division for quite some time, without Tony there. In the beginning, it had been awkward not having him around: he had been her boss when she had first started working at CTU, and for so many years they had gotten used to working together that things like "Take it to Tony." or "Tony, Jack has something." came naturally to her. Now, as far as the job went, both Jack and Tony were gone. The oddness had been especially noticeable during and after Tony's trial. With him in prison, Michelle had chosen to leave L.A. for Seattle - a completely different setting, one where it had seemed easier to adjust to not having Tony around at the office since he'd never been there in the first place.

As time passed, after Tony's release from prison, Michelle, back in Los Angeles, thought she was gradually getting used to not working with him anymore. But today, this whole day, she'd repeatedly caught herself thinking that Tony was working somewhere again. Somewhere, but not where she was. And not with her. And it threw her right back to feeling quite out of place.

Pulling a shirt over his head, Tony replied, "It was ok. I met most of the people there and the majority seemed nice. A couple of them seemed to have a chip on their shoulder, but I guess you can expect that towards someone who is new. One of them reminded me of Chloe, with his attitude."

"Well then at least you'll immediately feel at home." she laughed, even knowing it wouldn't be that easy.

Tony laughed, too but then admitted, "Oh, I don't know about that. It's awkward, though. It's been such a long time since I actually worked anywhere else but CTU. Seems like the time at Transmeta was eons ago." he said, practically thinking aloud. "Everything is new, I don't know anyone there... I guess I became complacent over these years, working with people that I knew and trusted."

"Yeah."_ I know exactly what you mean_. she thought. "But you'll get to know them."

"Yeah, you're right." Tony asserted. 

Having pulled his socks on, he looked at Michelle, who seemed to be staring blankly at the wall opposite her. _It must have been something I said_. "'Chelle, is everything okay?" he asked, concerned, getting up from where he'd been sitting and sitting down next to her instead.

Michelle caught herself when he sat down next to her on the bed, she caught herself. "Yeah." She smiled. 

"You sure?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I'm fine, it's just... it's been a tiring day."

"Dinner's ready." Enrico called from downstairs.

Tony looked at Michelle for a couple of seconds, as if to make sure she really was ok. "All right, come on, let's have some dinner." he then said, hugging her with one arm, standing up, kissing the top of her head. Together, they went downstairs and joined Enrico at the table.

--

"Thanks for the help, you two."

Michelle wiped her hands dry after putting the last plate into the dishwasher. "Thanks for cooking, Enrico, it was delicious. Good night."

"Night, Dad."

"Night. See you tomorrow."

"I hope you don't prefer his cooking over mine now." Tony whispered, adding a doubtful note to his voice, as he left the kitchen behind Michelle.

"Hmm, well, I don't know. He _is _pretty good." she replied, walking up the stairs.

"Uh-huh... So you're saying you want a different chef from now on, is that it?"

Michelle opened the bedroom door, walking inside. She had a big grin on her face, always enjoying teasing Tony a little, though it was clear he knew it. "Well, I guess it depends on how much you enjoy cooking for me."

Tony closed the door behind them, and grabbed Michelle's arm without any warning, pulled her towards him and into his arms. For a second there, he saw surprise in her eyes and knew he'd startled her. Holding her waist firmly with his left arm, he seized her hair with his right, bending her head back and pressing his lips on hers. His tongue touched her lips and she let it into her mouth, willingly kissing him back; Michelle's hands slid up Tony's arms and she gripped the back of his head, pulling him even closer, further deepening the kiss.

With her in his arms, Tony turned towards the door, and walked a couple of steps, not breaking contact with her mouth, eventually pinning her against the door with his body. Then he broke the kiss and cupped her face, keeping it inches apart from his own, but not allowing her to touch his lips even when she tried.

"Uh-uh." was his only reaction. Then, grinning at her, he whispered: "So, who's your favorite cook?"

"You are." she admitted breathlessly. Reaching for him, she attempted to kiss him again, but he pulled back.

"You sure? I mean, I don't want you settle for the second best, ya know..."

"Tony..." she moaned into his mouth, visibly frustrated by this delay.

His grin was still in place. "So who's better, Enrico or me?"

Michelle slid her arms slowly to his shoulders, and then his back. She was all serious except for her eyes. She felt desire for him build enormously, and yet, decided to play the blackmail game. She eyed him for two or three seconds, bringing her lips so close to his she almost kissed him and then whispered, "Enrico."

Tony gave a laugh of surprise and let go of her, taking a step aside, motioning for the door knob. He fought hard to stifle a laugh while he spoke, doing his best to sound like she'd enormously hurt his feelings, even though he knew the game. "Well, then, I think I'll go outside and ask him to stay and I'll go back to Chicago instead. I'm sure Mom will appreciate my skills."

Michelle moved away from the door, as if to let him pass. "Yeah, you'd better..."

As he turned away, she grabbed him from behind, turning him towards her, beginning to kiss him passionately again and he kissed her back, unable and unwilling to delay what he'd longed for for so long.

Their kisses soon became wilder. He had wanted to make love to his wife ever since he'd left the hospital, but had felt too weak and inadequate. Now that he finally felt strong enough, his body responded properly and the pent-up desire coursed through him like fire. Unless the world ended right now, nothing would stop him.

Michelle had to break the kiss to breathe just for a second, but then attacked Tony's mouth again, her own desire for him in the pit of her stomach growing by the second. While he continued to kiss her, she reached down, gripping Tony's tight butt, pressing the center of his body against her own.

That was all he needed. Tony felt like he would explode right then and there and broke the kiss to lift Michelle up and carried her to the bed, setting her down on it. Deciding to stifle the urge for now, he kneeled in front of her on the bed, looking at her hungrily. His libido put up a real fight but Tony wouldn't give in. Michelle reached out to him, wanting to pull him down to her, yet Tony held her by the wrists and kissed each of her hands individually before sliding his fingers down her arms, her armpits, finally bringing them to a stop on her collarbones and laying her arms on the pillow above her head.

Michelle sighed his name softly. Tony's arms slowly, sensually, slid further down her side, then underneath her top, freeing her navel. Then he bent down and planted a soft kiss on it before playfully tracing its outline with the tip of his tongue. Michelle closed her eyes, letting out another small sigh, while bringing her hands to his hair.

Gradually, Tony worked his way up to Michelle's breasts, eliciting a few soft moans from her along the way. When he arrived at her shoulder, he lifted her top and took it off her easily. Tony's touches sent sensations down her nerves like she hadn't felt them in months. She wanted him. She wanted him now. But the wait was torturous.

As his lips found hers again for a small kiss, Michelle couldn't wait any longer. She grabbed his shirt, unbuttoning it swiftly, as if unpacking a long-awaited present, and slid it down his shoulders, revealing his perfect body. It still showed scars from the interrogations, but right now, the scars made Tony seem even sexier to her, if that was in any way possible; in any case, they made him look rougher, tougher. Wrapping her arms around him, she sat up in the bed, gently caressing the scar on Tony's neck for a second before tilting her head and opening her mouth ever so slightly, only to find the opening sealed by Tony's hot lips an instant later. As they engaged in deep kisses again, Michelle began to fumble with the buttons on his jeans.

Tony couldn't hold himself back any more, either. He hastily pushed Michelle's skirt up her thighs and began to pull her nylons off her. They continued kissing while undressing each other.

Their movements were swift and passionate, both of them burning with animalistic desire. As much as she wanted him, he ached for her even more. When Michelle let Tony in, a tide of passion washed over her with the force of the past days' and weeks' pain. Tony relished in the intimacy and closeness they were finally able to feel but fought to hold himself back for her with all his might. He lifted her up and off the bed, leaned her naked body against the wall and while he moved inside her, he felt life coming back inside him with every thrust, finally feeling like a complete man again. It wasn't long before she climaxed in his arms in the most forceful way and he allowed himself to do the same.

They fell back on the carpeted floor, happy like they hadn't been in a long time. Tony kept Michelle on top of him, holding her tightly in his arms, her head buried in the crook of his neck. When the wave inside him subsided somewhat and he had enough breath to speak again, he whispered into her hair, "God, Michelle... That was..."

"Extreme." she finished his sentence.

He kissed her forehead. "Yeah."

Tony moved one hand to her curls, while the other stayed on the small of her back. They lay there lazily for a while, then Michelle finally lifted her head. Tucking her curls behind her ears, she looked at Tony seductively, then kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Tony took the hint and kissed her back. They made love again that night, first on the floor, then on the bed, but now it was slow and sensual.

Finally, exhausted, they lay down to sleep sometime after 2 a.m. They could still catch some four hours of sleep before the alarm clock rang. They lay on the side, bodies in close contact, the cover loosely thrown around them. Tony held Michelle in front of him, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He breathed in the scent of her hair, feeling her smooth skin with his whole body. Once again he realized how fortunate he was to have her, to be married to her; maybe he'd be fortunate enough to have a family with her. Just then and there, everything was perfect. Moments like these, moments of pure and innocent happiness, were what he lived for, what he thought a couple should live for. He kissed her hair, silently thanking fate for bringing them together.

Michelle held Tony's hand that lay underneath her, caressed it with her thumb. After everything, she had almost thought of giving up hope that nights like these would ever be possible again. But now, her fear was gone, and peace was inside her. She gave his hand a small kiss before closing her eyes.

"Tony?"

He squeezed her hand. "Mh-hm?"

"You _are _my favorite chef."

He could hear her smile through her words, and kissed her curls. "Good. Because no other chef could love you like I do."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Night, Sweetheart."


	16. The Traitor

**A/N: **Alright guys, I apologize for the "long time no chapter" fact, but I have set a higher standard for myself a while ago, and naturally, getting things to comply with that higher standard takes longer - but I hope it's worth it since you likely enjoy it more! Plus, of course, there's this thing called life that comes in between me and the writing every now and then ;-). Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think. Reviews do make my day :-)

**Day 34**

**Division**

"Sleep well, sweetie. Try to get back here fresh and relaxed tonight, ok?" Alex called to Georgia, standing next to her at her desk. Georgia was just logging off her computer and stuffing her personal cell phone and CTU access card into her purse. She gave her colleague a tired smile.

"Yeah I'm gonna draw them curtains tight and tell my brain it's night. If my damn body clock wasn't so screwed up by them nightshifts, I could maybe have a life outside these four walls."

"There_ is _no life outside CTU." Alex teased her and she slapped his arm playfully, to which he laughed. "Maybe you can take a dayshift next month... Go now, shoo. Get some sleep. Let me take over." he urged her in a light voice.

"Y'ain't bad for a white guy." Georgia grabbed her purse and jacket, both black leather. "And you, _don't _sleep." she told Alex and winked at him. Then she swung the jacket over her shoulder and wiggled her rear out of Division like a samba dancer. Alex sat down at the chair, logging on, and opened the first of several briefing files of the day, scanning it quickly. It was signed Bill Buchanan.

Despite the early morning, Bill had already been in his office for hours, the office he still, in some ways, shared with Michelle. Though he had made SAC now, faster than anyone expected, there were still quite a few things that she needed to help him with, things he needed to get a hang of. Everyone, even Bill himself, would have preferred a slower pace for the transition, everyone except Michelle. To Buchanan it almost looked like Michelle was trying to push away responsibility by pushing him forward; though he thought he knew her better than that. And yet, she was different from the Michelle he knew in Seattle: slightly withdrawn, a bit evasive, but still preoccupied.

Buchanan knew well that snooping around in the private lives of his subordinates and their family wasn't exactly a part of his duties, at least as long as they were under no suspicion, but he couldn't stop himself from looking up an address and a name online as soon as he'd finished putting together the morning briefings.

The system spat out about fifty names almost instantly and Bill nodded, satisfied.

_Filter. Floor 6_.

he typed in, and a second later the list was narrowed down to five names, accompanied by passport-size photos.

He went through them quickly. Jarrod, Stanley and Tico, being men, were of no interest, which left only two possibilities: an Esther Wagner and a Olivia Blackburn. Mrs Blackburn was 80 and in a wheelchair from the looks of it, which left Ms Wagner as the only possible candidate, so Bill called up her profile. She was a German citizen in possession of a Green Card, employed by Cook IT Solutions, Los Angeles. Her Technicolor eyes captivated him. They were a mix of summer sky and shallow ocean and Bill caught himself staring intently at her face for a few seconds.

When he was finally able to peel his glare away, Bill next looked up Tony Almeida. "...currently employed by Cook IT Solutions, Los Angeles."

"Tony, what are you doing..."

At that moment, Bill saw Michelle walk into the main office. Before she could join him upstairs, Bill closed the files and opened an interagency report that had just landed in the system.

Michelle gave a slight knock on the door, then she was in. "Morning, Bill."

Bill leaned back in his chair, a pen in his hand. "Hey. Everything ok?"

She smiled. "Tony's father is on his way to Chicago."

Bill nodded as Michelle joined him by his desk.

For a moment, she rested her hand on Bill's shoulder, her eyes finding his. "Thanks for letting me do this."

He shrugged. "It was just a couple of hours."

Michelle then turned to leave, "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

She still felt Enrico's warm hug as she brought him to the airport, saw the single tear form in his eye as he yet again told her to tell Tony he loved him, heard his voice crack with emotion as he bid her farewell, not knowing how long it'll be until they saw each other again, until he saw his son again.

"Say hi to Rosita and the others. And send Sebastián my best." she'd said, stuffing a present into Enrico's hands, a small box wrapped in light blue gift paper with a lollipop and candy pattern. "It's for the baby."

Enrico took the package, thanking her, and with a final, "Take care of Tony. And yourself." he'd joined the queue at the security.

--

The two-tone intercom chirp of Esther's phone made her turn to the side and as she picked up the receiver, she stole a glance at Tony, two desks over. His suit jacket, almost black, hung over the backrest of his seat. The top two buttons of his shirt were already open, and now he began to roll up the dark blue sleeves, letting out a long breath while doing so. She knew he was testing a new program. It was a moderately complex task for someone with his experience but the complexity of his assignments had built up gradually in the past week and it wouldn't be long until everyone else trusted him like she did. She appreciated Tony's work ethics; he took every job seriously. Given a program testing assignment, he would examine everything down to the last bit and byte if necessary. He would run it, crash it, resurrect it, rebuild it until he was certain of it. Besides, he was good eye candy, even if Esther was still reluctant to accept the fact that he was married.

As if he'd felt Esther's gaze upon him, Tony looked back at her for a second. There was a slight smile in the corner of his mouth when their eyes met, and he moved away a strand of slightly too long hair falling over his brow. Then his watchful eyes returned to the screen; Esther's remained on him. Tony took the computer mouse between his thumb and ring finger and began to draw tiny circles with it on the desk.

The almost soundless humming of the air-conditioning announced that it had been repaired, and now the fan directly above Esther's desk began to mercilessly suck out the warm air rising from a few dozen workstations, servers and printers that would otherwise make the air inside stale. So despite the smothering heat outside, the hairs on both Esther's arms suddenly stood, covering her skin in goose-bumps, and she pulled a purple silk scarf over her bare shoulders.

"No, that's B/S, it doesn't work that way." Tony muttered to the screen. He opened a source file, quickly found what he was looking for and keyed in a code. "Now, let's see what you can do."

He exited the command prompt and the program and was just about to restart it when his white office phone rang.

"Tony, it's Felix. Are you done with the software yet?"

"Not quite, I have another simulation to run. I had to fix something."

"We need it by the end of the day."

"Yeah, I know. I'll have it soon." _If it works this time_.

Tony hung up the phone with the one hand, and with the other, hit the ENTER key which started the simulation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Esther approaching his desk and turned to her. She had a man in tow, one that Tony hadn't seen before. The man was at least five years older than Tony, the lines on his face deeply cut into his skin. He wore an inexpensive grey corduroy suit - Tony guessed it was not because he couldn't afford a more elegant one, but because it was just his style. The synthetic shirt in Fire Department red had the intensity of the color comparable to the hideous orange jumpsuits issued to prisoners in places like Lompoc, a federal facility Tony had unintentionally gotten to know quite well. The newcomer's brow shined with perspiration. _Take off that suit, you'll pass out in this heat_. Tony thought. Three feet away from Tony, the newcomer snuffled audibly.

Tony smiled politely as the two stopped by his desk.

Esther gestured towards the new man. "Hi, Tony. You haven't met Robin yet. He was on vacation when you started."

"Hey. Robin Wilson." There was a thin film of sweat on Robins palm as he shook Tony's hand and then snuffled again.

"Tony Almeida. Nice to meet you."

"I hear you settled in alright."

Tony glanced to the side only very briefly, his hands casually leaned on his hips. His right hand touched the fabric of his slacks slightly more closely than necessary, to inconspicuously wipe Robin's sweat off his palm. "It's been good so far. I like the job."

"Good. Well, I'm Senior SA around here, so if you run into any problems with anything at all, or if something unusual comes up, I need to know about it."

"Understood." Tony replied, somehow not managing to stifle his instincts inside him completely.

"Also," Another snuffle. "if I give you a project or an assignment and someone else wants you to do something for them, mine comes first. That's not because I'm a power-hungry bastard, it's just the way things work, all right, Tony?" he added, the corners of his lips slightly raised but his eyes not quite playing along.

"Chain of command, I get that." Tony let slip.

Robin eyed Tony for a couple of seconds during which he seemed to have forgotten to breathe. Then something flashed in his eyes; Tony thought it was recognition. A snuffle introduced a question, "You're ex-Army, aren't you?"

"First Lieutenant. USMC." Tony corrected him. "Inactive for years, though."

"I see... Old habits die hard." Wilson replied, then admitted. "Air Force. Staff Sergeant. Swapped the uniform for this a decade ago." he touched the wavy fabric of his suit's sleeve, then shrugged in obvious frustration. "Injury."

"Sorry."

Tony's reply was met by one last snuffle. "Well, anyway... See you around. Let me know how that simulation goes."

"Yeah, I will."

Esther stayed behind, and when Wilson was far enough away, she asked Tony, "Want to have lunch together today?"

"Yeah, sure. At one?"

"Ok."

In the meantime, Robin Wilson had taken a seat in his chair. Hands by the keyboard, he just sat there, staring intently at an invisible spot on the black screen. Had his pupils been laser pointers, they would have burned two holes into the monitor. Then suddenly, as if his own snuffle woke him from a trance, Robin logged onto his Dell desktop computer and opened Firefox. Entering "_Tony Almeida_" in Google, he hit the search button.

--

The world wide web had been fruitful and Wilson stared, eyes narrowed, at his computer screen. He moved his eyeballs, but not his head, in Tony's direction. Tony leaned back in the chair for a moment, then sat up again, typed something, then waited again. Wilson returned to the article he had just found. Underneath the first of two photos on the page, the text read: _Counter Terrorist agent Tony Almeida is taken into custody by the FBI after compromising a hostage situation_.

Tony was dressed all in black. His cheeks unshaven, he had dark rings underneath his eyes, an unnerved and yet somehow resigned expression on his face. Two dark-clad FBI agents with a don't-mess-with-me look on their faces held each of Tony's arms securely behind his back. Tony's hands were invisible from the photographer's perspective but probably cuffed. The photos were the usual paparazzi quality. Bright light in Tony's face blurred his features slightly. Judging from the angle, he must have been led out to a staircase underneath which a pack of photographers had waited. The slight difference in height between the photographer and its object added to the overall menacing effect.

Wilson knew how tabloids worked. Lots of manipulation was possible through a simple picture. But in this case, that was irrelevant. He read on. More and more, memories of Tony's high profile case trickled into Robin's mind in tiny drops. The text in the article clearly stated that Counter Terrorist Agent Almeida had sided with the mastermind of the operation, Stephen Saunders, complying with his demands. Tony had been willing to let millions of people die in order to negotiate his wife's release.

Robin Wilson had never been married. He'd come quite close once, but his fiancée, a true runaway bride, had changed her mind at the last moment. Nor could Robin have understood the self-sacrificing love that Tony and Michelle had. But as he scrolled through the article, and then clicked a different link to look at a follow-up story, Tony's reasons were the last thing on his mind. All he saw was a Lieutenant in the US Marine Corps, a government agent, a counter terrorist operative sworn in to protect the very people whose lives he'd decided to jeopardize, and worst of all, a convicted traitor. And this guy, Tony Almeida, a traitor to his own country, a traitor to Robin's country, was sitting right here in this office, breathing the same air-conditioned air.

Wilson snuffled, then rubbed his chin in thought. "We have to do something about this." he muttered to himself.

Having to share office and computer system with a guy like Almeida was a slap in the face to the patriot and former Air Force NCO. After thinking for a second, he opened FireCatcher, a program he'd designed for strict internal use. A black window appeared, the red cursor blinking, ready to accept input. FireCatcher was essentially a messaging program that sent intricately encrypted messages through the system. It only accessed computers that had the feature installed (which meant there were maybe five computers in the entire company that could communicate this way) and the messages could be traced only from the computer that had created the program, which was Robin's, and Robin was the only one with access to the computer. Michael Cook could access it, of course, but the company CEO knew nothing of the program's existence. Nor had FireCatcher ever been used before. Robin had reserved his special messenger for emergencies.

And this - this _was_ one.

"URGENT"

Robin typed in red letters, then copy pasted the URLs of the articles he'd found into the window.

"MEET AFTER LUNCH. UTUP" (usual time, usual place) he added to the end of the message.

He hesitated just a split second, then hit ENTER.

--

A weak yellow light shone onto Robin's face from the ceiling of a small, otherwise dark room along whose walls a battalion of binders and boxes lay neatly stacked on dozens of shelves. The door to the archives room was closed and apart from the soft humming of the air conditioner there seemed to be no sound. Not until a snuffle, followed by Robin's voice, broke the silence.

"You've all seen the articles and if you're not sure what I think of it, then you should leave this room instantly. If you are, then you know that we must act."

Robin, his back a straight plank, red shirt buttoned to the top, stood in a circle with Andy, Cory, Felix and Nathan. His brow was no longer moist from the heat, and he had left the suit jacket by his desk. Now, an officer leading his troops into battle, he glanced at all four men individually, looking for signs of uncertainty.

A pause followed Robin's words, while it seemed no-one in the conspiratory circle had the guts to speak up. As Felix did after a little while, his tone was slightly more silent than intended.

"Rob, I know how you're feeling. But don't you think that we should talk to Tony first? There must be an explanation for all this."

"The explanation is that he _betrayed our country_. And now he's right here in the midst of our company, and who's to say he won't betray us next?" Robin replied sharply.

"Yeah, but Michael surely knows about Tony's history."

Andy chimed in, "Exactly. Tony wouldn't be here if Michael hadn't decided he was good enough, if he hadn't wanted to give him a chance. I mean, he was pardoned; there must be more to this, something we don't know yet." Robin's gaze settled on Andy but Andy's eyes moved to Felix. "Maybe Fix is right, we should try and talk to him."

Felix nodded. "Rob, at least talk to Michael. He would have done a background check before employing Tony."

Rob glared back at Fix and only snuffled in response.

Cory, the red-haired skater boy shook his head. "_We can't _talk to Michael." His voice quivered a little and he pushed his hands into his pockets. "Even if he does know, he can't know that _we do_. Imagine what would happen if Michael even knew we were meeting like this." he almost whispered the last words.

Robin snuffled before replying. "Junior's right. This has to stay under the radar."

Felix looked at every man in the room for a second. Rob's eyes were cold and determined, in Cory's, there was discomfort, maybe a small sign of fear, whereas in Andy's, there was predominantly doubt. Nathan had no expression. He took a breath, then the words came out without a pause.

"Look, guys. All Tony did was save his wife from a terrorist. I would have done the same thing. And he even helped catch the bad guy in the end. The President granted him a pardon. Maybe we should just give him a chance here. Let him be."

Rob shot a look at Fix while crossing his arms. "Fix, let me ask you something... Ever been in the Army?"

"No."

"Air Force? Marine Corps? Navy? Anything?"

"No."

"Not even law enforcement?"

"No."

"Then you don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Robin held Felix's stare as he took a long breath through his mouth, then exhaled the same way. Then he stepped closer to Fix, as if to talk to him privately, although the tiny enclosure allowed for no privacy in the first place, not with five men in it. Eventually, he snuffled and added a reconciliatory tone to his voice.

"Listen, Fix. I know you have a wife. And kids. You see Almeida's actions from the angle of a father and a husband. But once you've sworn an oath to protect your country from all evil and at all costs, everything - and I mean _everything_ - else is secondary."

Andy shuffled in place uncomfortably. "Yet he did swear an oath to his wife, too..." As the silence around them continued and Rob and Felix still held each other's stare, Andy added, "But then again, he did risk millions of lives by doing what he did. It's a catch-22, I suppose."

"Almeida committed treason. I'm not working with a traitor."

Rob's words hung in the air, and only after several seconds did his and Felix's eyes part. When the two men finally moved, they heard Nathan's voice speak up.

"I don't like him." he uttered simply, having been quiet for too long. "He strikes me as the kind who'll cause trouble."

"Why?" Cory questioned.

"I dunno. I just think so."

"Ok, enough now." Robin commanded. _I don't have all day for debates_. "I need to know who's with me on this. Right now."

An eerie silence took over the room, but lasted just a couple of seconds. Nathan was the first to speak. "I'm in."

Just a second thereafter, Cory was next. "Me too."

Robin moved his inquisitory eyes to Andy and Felix. Both men were still quiet.

Andy crossed his arms at his chest, buying time. _In dubio pro Robin_ was written all over his face. Seconds later, he gave a small sigh. "All right. Me too."

Now eight eyes were on Felix. He still visibly struggled with himself, the conflict apparent in his eyes, in the way he ran a hand through his hair, then scratched his chin while thinking about the situation. He held Robin's gaze but took his time. Andy shifted his weight to his left foot after a while, then Cory removed his baseball cap to scratch his scalp. Nathan let out an annoyed breath but Robin was unmoving. Finally, Felix rubbed his forehead. Dropping his hand down to his side again, he finally replied. "Fine. I'm in."

Robin eyed his colleague. "You're wavering, Fix."

Felix found Rob's eyes and asserted, "No. I'm not. I'm in."

Rob stared him down another second or two. _You'd better_.

Then he snuffled. "Ok. Good. Now to your assignments." Robin now spoke again in his Air Force tone. "Nathan. I need you to set up a mirror to trace all of Tony's movements through our system and report anything out of the ordinary to me."

Nathan made a mental note. "You got it."

"Fix. I need you take him off the software tests immediately. He works directly for me now."

"Ok, what do I tell him?"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want."

Andy's hands were in his pockets now. He offered, "I can take over on the testing."

"Good. Do it." Robin agreed. "Cory, I'll need you later. Stand by, as they say."

At that moment, the door of the tech room opened and Esther was in the doorframe. "Aah, there you are. What's this? A high school journal club?"

"Yeah something like that." Cory said, grinning, gesturing towards her with a file in his hand. They had all brought some work with them in case of an interruption like this. "I miss my college days, so I needed a discussion group for this problem."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did." Esther didn't smile in return. "Robin, Michael's waiting for you in his office. He said he needed to talk to you."

"Thanks. I'll be right there. We're done here anyway."

--

Tony had just sat back down in his chair as he saw the group coming from the hallway. Robin seemed to lead the way, followed by Nathan, Andy and Cory. Three steps behind, there was Felix. Tony eyed them carefully. _Where were they?_

He noticed that none of the men looked in his direction as they re-entered the office. He then saw Esther follow the group from a distance. He sat up straight in the chair, narrowing his eyes, furrowing his brow. _Have they found out about my history?_

Esther smiled at him as she sat down at her desk. The others, apart from Robin, who rushed up the stairs to Michael's office, went back to their workstations, too. It was then that Tony decided, _Quit it. They're probably just coming from the break room. And it isn't their business anyway._

Felix logged onto his computer, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "How do I do this?" he whispered quietly to himself.

Nathan's eyes revealed he was inwardly smiling as he began to work on setting up the mirroring software. Every few seconds, he glanced towards Esther and his inner smile surfaced more and more. He accessed the subnet, changing a few of the network addresses, adding a couple, so that whatever was done from Tony's machine would be simultaneously sent to Nathan's system as well. When he was ready, he started FireCatcher and typed, "It's Nathe. Need access to T system. Distract subject." The message soon appeared on Cory's screen.

"Distract him, how?" Cory read the message and thought for a minute. Then he picked up his phone and dialed Tony's extension.

"Tony, it's Cory. Where are you on that software test?"

"I'm running the latest patches you guys wrote yesterday for the prompt, why?"

"I'm re-writing the code in the F-section, I came across a pattern I need you to look at."

"Yeah, all right. Let me just print up the log from it and I'll be right there." Tony responded.

"Yeah, man."

Nathan watched Tony lock his screen and stroll over to Cory's desk with a printout in his hand. While Cory was talking to him, Nathan used his time wisely. All he needed to do now is get Tony's system to agree to the instructions. The few minutes Cory was buying him should be enough to come to an agreement with the computer. He watched the yellow progress bar move to the right steadily until it suddenly stopped moving at 91. The progress was stalled.

Nathan gripped the computer mouse firmly, started to tap his feet on the floor. "Come on, come on."

He glanced towards Cory's station. It seemed like he and Tony had figured out the "issue".

The progress on the screen finally continued. 94, 96.

"Come on, damn it!"

Tony was already on his way back to his station when his system confirmed the new setup.

"About time."

Racing across the keyboard, Nathan deleted all traces of his infringement on Tony's system and when Tony logged back on, there was no indication anything had been tempered with.

Nathan ran both hands over the thin layer of hair on his head and let out a breath of relief. "Boy, that was close."

Back in FireCatcher again, he messaged everyone in the loop: "Set up successful. We're online."

Robin then came back to his station. He found the message waiting and smirked only very slightly to himself. _Well done, Nathe. Now he's not doing anything we won't know about_.

He glanced at Fix who at that moment stood up, measuring his footsteps towards Tony's workstation.

Tony looked up at the approaching man, "Hey. What do you need?"

"Uhm..." Fix put his hands on his hip pockets. "Tony, I need you to transfer all the data you have on the C test to Andy's system."

"Why? It's only half finished."

"I know. He'll finish it. Transfer it now." Fix made a move to leave.

"Felix, what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"Look, just transfer it." Fix made his best attempt not to sound defensive. "You're working for Robin from now on. I have to put my own people on it, that's all there is to it."

Tony stifled the reflex to reply 'fine' and instead nodded. "I'll send it."

"Thanks."

As Fix went back to his station, he glanced at Robin in passing, but then turned his eyes away from him again, and finally sat down with another sigh. He touched his forehead, then leaned his head on the palm.

Tony watched Felix walk away; he didn't like this. Despite the half-hearted explanation, Tony's gut feeling told a different story. _There's something else going on here. He's taking me off this for another reason_.

And yet, he stopped the test and saved all logs, compressed the files, and sent them to Andy's in-screen. When he was done, he realized that he had transferred over the results of two days' work and that he hadn't been given anything else to do. He glanced at Robin from the corner of his eye. The man seemed deeply focused on something on his own monitor. _If I'm supposed to work for him, isn't he supposed to let me know what he wants me to do?_ Just then, an e-mail came in and Tony clicked on the OK button of the New E-Mail alert.

The message was from Robin. It had several attachments and a short text that read,

_"Tony,_

_These are leftovers from the previous SA_._ The codes are all wrong, nothing works_._ I need these files sorted through, corrected and printed out __tonight_.

_Robin."_

Tony almost let out a laugh. _Busy work_. he sighed. _Great_.

Before he could open up the first attachment, his phone rang. "Almeida."

"Tony, it's me... Sorry to bother you at work."

It was Michelle and Tony sat up in the chair instantly, turning away from the office, towards the window. He made sure no-one was listening in before he replied, his face suddenly worried, his voice as low and inconspicuous as possible.

"What's going on?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Tony let out a breath, closed his eyes. _Don't do that to me_.

Michelle's voice soon continued quietly, apologetically. "Look, Tony, I'm sorry, we have to cancel the plans tonight. I'm stuck here. I won't make it out before ten."

_Oh, damn_._ The dinner_. He'd completely forgotten about it. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah... Actually, I'm gonna need to take a rain check, too. I'm stuck here myself. I just got a ton of things to do _by tonight_." He couldn't hide a note of irritation in his voice.

There was a second's pause on the other end. "You sure you're ok?" Michelle then questioned.

"I'm fine." Tony replied. How could he possibly tell her, especially over the phone, that he felt he was being sidelined? "See you sometime tonight."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Michelle hung up, then Tony did, and with a sigh, he opened the first of the files Robin had sent him. _Son of a bitch, what kind of a moron wrote this crap_... he thought as he looked at the code. It made little sense. If he wanted to get it to work, he might as well camp here in the office tonight.

--

"There. All done..." Tony saved the data and exited the program he'd been working in. Switching to Outlook, he typed in Robin's e-mail address in a new message, attaching several files to it. He had sorted out and partially re-written the code. "Eat this." he sighed in frustration as he clicked the SEND button.

Seconds later, the computer confirmed the delivery and Tony put his hands to his stiff neck, allowing the back of his head a few moments' rest. His back ached, his eyelids were heavy, his eyes dry. He closed them, listened to the silence in the empty office around him, interrupted only by an occasional sound from a printer waking up from standby for no apparent reason or by a fax machine set to automatic receipt.

_Stay like this too long and you'll fall asleep_. He consciously counted sixty clicks of his watch before drawing and exhaling a deep breath and then forced himself to change position again. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The yawn formed two teardrops in the corners of his eyes which he brushed away, then shut down the computer and glanced at the watch for the first time in hours: 11:24. _Way past decent working time_. he thought. _But you should be used to that by now, Almeida, shouldn't you_.

One look around told him what he wasn't used to: being the last person around, the only one left. At CTU, there were always people working. Dayshift. Nightshift. Infrequent 24 hour shifts that they all somehow managed to go through every so often when huge crises arose. Here, everyone had gone to their partners, parents, kids in the early evening the latest.

"Go home, finish that tomorrow." Esther had told him before she left, but he'd just replied,

" 'S alright. See you in the morning."

Tony stifled the next yawn and tossed the empty pizza box on his desk to the trash. Then he got up from the chair, grabbed his suit jacket and headed out of the office.

--

When Tony pulled his car onto the driveway it was almost midnight. Glancing at the house, he noticed light reflecting from the inside. _She's home. _The thought of Michelle brought a smile to his lips and he got out of the car. He rushed to the front door, almost forgetting to lock the vehicle, but just before entering the house, he remembered to press the 'lock' button on the car key.

Inside, Michelle was curled up on the living room couch, wrapped in a blanket, looking like she'd dozed off. Through a haze, she heard an engine outside. It approached, stopped, the lights went out. She knew it was Tony. Though it was late and she could have used the sleep, it hadn't felt right to go to bed without him next to her. When the keys jingled in the lock, she opened her eyes. She didn't call out to him; the task of keeping her eyes open was hard enough.

Tony opened the door and threw the keys onto the sideboard, then, even before taking off his jacket, he peered into the living room. Seeing her, he smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." she replied with a smile of her own.

Tony went into the living room and sat on the couch next to Michelle. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the curly top of her head, immersing himself in her warmth. _This is home_. he thought.

"How was your day?" he whispered after a while.

"Long." she said softly, keeping her arms still wrapped around him. "I just got home half an hour ago. Kinda hoped you'd be here before me... What was so urgent?"

Tony gave a small sigh. "Just some programming that had to be done today."

Michelle nodded, then, with her hands on the back of his head, pulled back to give him a small kiss. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired." Tony said, pulling her closer.

She gave him another small kiss, then pulled back, taking his hand into hers. "Come on, the bed is getting lonely without us."

"Yeah." Tony got up and headed upstairs, still holding Michelle close to him.

While Michelle was in the bathroom, Tony took off the comforter and already crawled into bed.

"Com'ere." Tony said quietly as Michelle emerged form the bathroom.

She turned off the small lamp on her nightstand and just about dropped onto the bed. She gave a content sigh as Tony pulled her against him into the cocoon of warmth.

"I love you, Sweetheart. Sweet dreams." Tony whispered into her curls, before closing his eyes.

"I love you too. Night."


	17. Hard Times Come Easy

**A/N:** Thanks to the peeps who've reviewed so far, and to all of you, hope you keep enjoying ;-). Here's chapter 17.

* * *

**Day 36**

Tony measured his footsteps on his way past the five desks between the storage room and the window where his own workstation waited for him. His feet glided across the floor slowly enough not to give the action too much importance, but fast enough not to make him look like he had too much time on his hands. He balanced a stack of black jewel cases in his right hand as if carrying a full tray with drinks in a crowded restaurant.

Halfway through the office, Tony glanced at his watch for a split second. Ten. Too late for breakfast - which he'd skipped yet again - too early for lunch. But never too early or too late for coffee, he decided. Four more steps and he exchanged the blank CD-Rs for his thirsty Cubby and decided to stroll over to the break room for a cup's worth of insomnia.

"Hey!" he suddenly heard a voice behind him and came to a halt. _Not_ you _again_.

Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Tony turned, slowly, to face a beige-clad Nathan, standing three feet away, hands stuck in his pockets. The smudged glasses on Dumbo's nose partially hid his grey irises but he was carefully eyeing Tony through the mist.

Tony, a head taller than Nathan, scratched his face with a small sigh, placed Cubby back on the desk and put his own hands on his waist. "I do have a name, you know."

"I know."

Nathan made no attempt to apologize, not that Tony would have expected him to; for three days now, he had been just a "hey" or a "you" to the balding individual.

"From the last few days, I wouldn't have guessed. What do you want?" y_ou pudgy idiot._

Nathan even managed not to grin, though his eyes were laughing with evil joy. "You screwed up earlier. Cory stumbled across a faulty protocol and sent it to me. It originated from your station. Amateur."

Tony straightened his back, crossed his arms, took one step towards Nathan. "First of all, it was an obsolete code and second, how do you know that part was even modified? Make sure you have the facts before making accusations. How long have you been doing this job, three months?"

Now Nathan did grin. "You keep making screw ups like this and my career here _will_ be longer."

"Almeida!" a commanding voice tore through Nathan's last word, followed by a snuffle. Tony could hear firm footsteps approaching from behind while Nathan retreated to his own station.

"Yeah." Tony mumbled, rolling his eyes before turning around. _Sometimes this place seems like kindergarten_.

Rob installed himself in front of Tony, their eyes meeting at an equal height. He, too, crossed his arms. "Get back to work. We're not paying you to stand around and chat."

"Yet you _are _paying him to _spy_ on me, aren't you?"

Rob continued staring at Tony, unmoving. Four eyes fixed their glare in a life-threatening standoff. Then Rob snuffled.

Finally, Tony relented. "I'll get you your files in ten minutes."

"Good."

**Night 38**

Except for the small night light in one corner and the red display of the digital alarm clock in the other, the Almeida bedroom was dark. The persistent hammering of raindrops on the window sill was the only perceivable sound, the silence of the night was otherwise undisturbed. From the outside, at least.

Inside, while Michelle's breathing was steady and slow, Tony's was rapid and shallow. The cover between his legs, his feet tangled the sheet below him. Tony gave a mumble, moved his arms to his cheeks, buried his face in the pillow, then seconds later turned to his back again. Lightning suddenly tore through the night, flashed a light onto his sweaty face for a split second and was followed by a loud roar of thunder. A moan, a soft cry, then his arms shielded his face even more. His legs crossed over to Michelle's side of the bed for a second, then came back again. Tony gripped the pillow firmly, then woke up with a start.

Sitting up, mouth wide open in need of oxygen, he sucked the stale air in like he hadn't breathed in days. _Oh, God. Not again..._ His heart pounded hard against his ribcage as if trying to escape it, a drop of sweat ran down his temple just past his eye, the air buzzed in his ears. When he was certain his eyes were open, the darkness around him hit him first, intensifying the already crushing terror in his mind even further. He breathed against the pressure in his chest, struggling against the tightness of the enclosure around him, fighting the room that seemed to be getting smaller by the second, sending all four walls marching towards the bed, trying to squash him alive. _It's only a dream, only another dream._ he tried to tell himself.

Tony shook his head, pressing his face into his hands. He fought hard not to think anything, to yank every single thought out of his mind, to regain peace. He didn't expect it to work.

Seconds later, breathing in, he pushed his hands through his hair, instantly annoyed at how sweaty it was, and opened his eyes. Sudden light from another flash of lightning had him abruptly turn his head towards the window and shudder at the vibration that the thunder caused in the bed. When it passed, he let out a breath, his hands on his eyes again. _Calm down. Calm down_. he said to himself.

And yet, the fear stayed. The tightness in his chest stayed. The pounding of his heart stubbornly refused to ease off. And then he felt movement beside him.

Opening her eyes, Michelle instinctively turned to Tony's side of the bed. She reached out to him only to find the pillow empty but still warm and humid. A few inches further down, her sliding hand found Tony's body.

"Tony?" she whispered, at the same time turning on the small bedside lamp on her nightstand, noting the time: 3:05. The lamp shone a soft, creamy light on her husband's worn, sweaty white t-shirt on which a faded Tux, the Linux penguin sat, like he had since the mid-90s according to Tony, perfectly happy with his large, yellow feet stretched out in front of his snow-white belly.

Though Tony felt Michelle's eyes on him, he didn't turn to look back at her. Instead, he pulled his knees up, held his bare ankles. _Pull yourself together, Almeida, you're a wreck. _he ordered himself but instead only felt a discomforting wave of goose bumps travel up his back.

Sitting up, Michelle gently touched his shoulder. "It's okay, honey. It's over."

Tony startled, his whole body tensing at her touch. He squeezed his eyes shut. _Great, you're scared of Michelle, too, huh? Just what she expects of a husband. Bravo, Almeida... You're not worth a shit_.

He gave a small sigh. Head kept low, like he was intently looking at something at the foot of the bed, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye warily. Michelle's hand stayed in place and after several seconds, the sensation acquired a comforting quality he was silently thankful for.

Soon, his eyes again looked away from Michelle. _This can't keep happening_. he thought.

_Yeah, but what are you gonna do about it? It's not like you have any control over your dreams. _

_The painkillers kept this away._

The heavy clang of the barred doors of his infernal dungeon still echoed in his ears, immediately sending cold chills down his back; the sole thought of it made him want to scream. Everything was still so real, like it'd never ended. Like a hopelessly attached leech, nightmares and flashbacks now stuck to him, seemingly forever, growing more frequent and intense by the night, and the corner he took refuge in ever smaller.

Michelle sighed heavily and inched closer to Tony, gently embracing him from behind. Her chin in the crook of his neck, she sat there silently, moving her hands to his chest after a while. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out, slowly, deeply, as if attempting to bring his breathing to a similar, slower, more normal rhythm.

Tony moved his arms to his knees, leaned his head onto his arms and gave a ragged breath. He only marginally noted Michelle's efforts to calm him down.

_This is crazy. What the hell is wrong with me?_

After a while, Michelle moved a hand to Tony's damp hair. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Tony kept silent. He shook his head, not even lifting it from his arms, almost the same way a frightened child might when asked a similar question.

"Honey, please, talk to me. It might help."

_It won't. On the contrary. I'd just have to go through it again._

Michelle waited, caressing the back of Tony's head. He didn't move. Another long sigh escaped her and she held him again. Her head rested on his shoulder and she shut her eyes.

_Hard times come easy._

--

_What would your father say if he saw you like this?_

_"Almeidas don't give up", that's what he'd say. But that's easier said than done._

The passage of time went unnoticed as he listened to nothing but his agonized mind.

_Prison, beatings, torture, death. And as if all of that wasn't enough, now I have this rookie job and the morons there to deal with as well. Treating me like garbage. Leftovers, beta-versions, idiot jobs. _

Like yesterday.

"I need you to write out these codes for filing." Andy shoved a disc into Tony's hand. "It's urgent."

"Uh-huh... As urgent as the last ones Robin had me do the other day?"

"You don't have to be sarcastic. It needs to be done."

"Fine." Tony grabbed the disc, and gave Andy the results of his work two hours later. He was packing up to go home when Andy told him the whole file had gone missing.

"Right. What are the chances of that?"

"Sorry. Nothing I can do."

Tony cursed the timing and the fact he'd had to cancel dinner out with Michelle yet again, but got the whole thing redone, which resulted in yet another evening of overtime, though not as bad as the week before. He left the office by nine.

_Damn them_.

Suddenly, Tony saw not his father before him but his mother, sitting in her white linen lawn chair, painting innocent landscapes. In the kitschy green valleys and endless yellow fields on her canvas, the world always seemed so immaculately perfect at first glance, so free and unspoiled by the real world, although in each picture a single red flower in a yellow field or a single grey cloud on a blue-white sky carried Alicia's name. The perfection was convincing - though superficial. In life, so it seemed, it wasn't as easy to pretend.

_Surely you'd be painting me a small grey cloud by now, too, Mom, if you knew._

--

Michelle opened her eyes to the sparingly lit bedroom and glanced at the alarm clock: 3:59. She noticed neither she nor Tony had moved and realized she must have nodded off for a little while. With an annoyed look in her eyes she reproached herself for this fact, hoping Tony hadn't noticed. But she knew he must have. He would have. At least under normal circumstances. She moved her hand slowly down Tony's arm and listened: the storm had moved on; the thunder was far away, the sound of the raindrops was not as intrusive and Tony's heartbeat was normal again.

The unexpected movement of Michelle's hand on his arm shooed Tony's thoughts away. He breathed in as deeply as he could in his position, scratched his calves. The long breath drawn against the weight of his upper body seemed to pull him out of his darkness and back to reality. He gradually became aware of the now quiet and steady drumming of the rain outside, of Michelle's smooth, warm skin enveloping him, of her fruit-scented curls behind him. He realized his neck had become stiff. Cold air flow made the hairs on his arms stand up. For some reason, he shuddered.

Just then, Michelle moved her hand up his chest and he heard her whisper sleepily, "I'm here, honey."

_You're selfish, Almeida. Let her sleep._

Finally, with a long sigh, Tony lifted his head from his arms and moved so that he could look at Michelle, who at that moment sat up, sliding her arms around his stomach, not letting go of his body. Tony took her hand and caressed it. The look in her eyes told him he was causing her pain; that realization stabbed him.

"I didn't mean to wake you." he whispered, sad, hollow eyes fixed on hers for just a moment. As if afraid to let her read them, he pulled Michelle back down on the mattress and turned off the light. Settling under the cover with her in his arms, he added. "Let's try to get some sleep while we still can."

"Okay..." she whispered sleepily in return and snuggled against him.

"Night."

Tony gently caressed her soft curls. There used to be a time when seeing them dance in the light wind, breathing in their floral scent, feeling them between his fingers would make him feel at home; home was wherever Michelle was. Now, he wasn't sure _where_ he was. She was there like she always had been; she was there - but so was his past, more real than ever._ I don't deserve her_, it shot through his head.

--

Michelle really just wanted to pass out for the three hours the night would still last. Though she yawned, sleep just wasn't there in the room. She kept her eyes open, staring into the darkness around them until her eyes adapted to the lack of light. She listened to Tony's breathing, watched as the faint silhouette of his chest moved up and down slowly. She saw the outline of his eyelashes contrast against the small night light on the wall - his eyes were still open, too.

Slowly, she led a hand up his stomach and to his chest; from there it moved ever so slightly from his left shoulder to his right. Before it went back the other way, Tony's hand caught hers, held it, kept it in place. His grip on her hand was just a little tighter than she would have expected it, tighter than necessary; for a moment, she wasn't sure what this meant. _Am I annoying him?_

_Quit it, Michelle. He has more pain in him than you'll ever know. Cut him some slack._

_Am I not?_

After another hour or so, Michelle dozed off, but woke up again not long thereafter. As soon as she realized she was awake, she instinctively listened to Tony's breathing. It was quiet. Rhythmic. Peaceful.

_Peaceful_. she repeated to herself, finding herself hoping he was indeed sleeping. Peacefully.

Somehow, she wasn't so sure.

--

Tony never even allowed himself to fall asleep again that night. He'd held Michelle's hand on his chest until he her breathing became slow and regular and her movements seized, then, when he was sure of her sleep, lay her arm back onto the mattress, away from him.

_You need the sleep_, Almeida. he thought.

_Not like this._

Quite briefly, he thought of sleeping pills, but decided against taking any. The only defense against nightmares was simple: no sleep.

_Been there, done that_.

He could do it again.

**Day 40**

A dozen skirts and suits were lined along the long conference table in District's meeting room. Lou Brass, now Head of District after his successful handling of the situation at Division and doing his own job at District at the same time, sat at one end of the table, Bill Buchanan at the other. Michelle sat next to Bill, a pen in her hand, ready to take notes. Erin Driscoll was sitting close to Brass, and now she put on her square reading glasses to look at the meeting protocol in front of her.

Brass took a sip of coffee from the white mug with a black CTU seal in front of him, at the same time reflexively putting his other hand over his bright yellow tie to protect it. Better safe than sorry; his wife wouldn't appreciate having to remove a coffee stain from a silk tie.

Then Brass cleared his throat. "Item three is the Division restructuring. Bill Buchanan has now officially taken over as SAC, replacing Brad Hammond. Thank you, Bill."

Bill nodded.

"Also, the required personnel changes have been implemented, is that right?"

"Yes, it is. Steve Sheldon's replacement joined us Monday. Charles Darwin worked at Langley for the last four years -"

"Charles Darwin?" Erin interjected, taking off her glasses.

Bill shrugged, smiling. "Yes, his parents are biologists with a sense of humor."

Soft laughter filled the room for a few seconds. Even Brass couldn't stifle a laugh, though he'd known the name.

When the laughter subsided, it was Bill's turn to clear his throat. "So, anyway, it shouldn't take long to train him to our systems. As of this week, Division is fully operational."

"That's good. Congratulations." Brass nodded, now serious again. "Erin, what about CTU?"

"Edgar Stiles is starting next week."

"Good." Brass made a note on the page in front of him. "Speaking of Brad Hammond... The investigation concerning his role in the events that preceded his death has been completed. Michelle had filed her statement with Rae Platchecky and I have now received the final report from the AG's office."

Brass dug out from his briefcase a thick folder with a CTU seal on it and opened it. There was shifting in the seats and shuffling of paper as everyone prepared to listen.

Michelle kept her back straight. Nothing in her posture suggested she was anything but focused on the proceedings, but if anyone were looking closely, they'd have noticed her eyes staring at some spot on the table in front of her. Bill did.

Brass found the intended passage and took a breath. "It is concluded," he read, "that Brad Hammond's actions in handling Tony Almeida's case were premature and his accusations raised against the latter unfounded. Tony Almeida is cleared of any suspicion by this committee. Following the severity of torture he had been subjected to, it is suggested a formal apology be sent to him. This investigation is now closed."

Silence followed Brass's words. No-one seemed to be breathing. Some nodded. Bill leaned back in the chair. Erin looked towards Michelle. Nothing on Michelle moved.

Brass sat up in the chair, closed the file, adjusted his tie. "Michelle, I hope you know how sorry I am personally for what Brad did to your husband. Even though that won't make you feel better, I want you to know I'll do what I can - and I urge everyone in this room to do the same - to ensure investigations are conducted with due care in their sections from now on so that an outrage like this can't happen again."

He paused briefly, then closed the file in front of him."Personal feelings towards a suspect", he then continued, "have no place in a fair investigation. Our job is to stick to facts. All facts. Choosing to ignore possible evidence is as much irresponsible as it is a felony. Willfully accepting the possibility of taking someone's life -"

"Hold on a second." Ronnie Lobell, Head of Field Ops in CTU, interrupted the speech. "Hammond might have made a mistake, but we're in counter terrorism here. We can't handle every suspect with kid gloves, that's tying our hands."

Brass and Erin both shot a look at Ronnie, but it was Brass who said, "You have to be sure of your facts."

"Well, _getting _all the facts sometimes takes a longer time than we have at our disposal."

Muffled words filled the room. Bill took a sip of water.

"Ronnie." Michelle uttered quietly. Immediately, all voices subsided, all eyes were on her. She found Lobell's and slowly began to stand. "If I ever see you near Tony for whatever reason..." She caught herself, half disbelieving what just happened. _Get a grip, Michelle!_

She averted her eyes from Ronnie, swallowed, took a long breath, blinked, as if brought back from some other reality. She set her pen onto the conference table. "Play by the book."

Then she walked out of the room like she was running away from her own words. Outside, she sought a dark corner in a hallway where she could lean on the grey stone wall in peace. She felt her eyes welling up but breathed in as deeply as she could through her mouth, forcing down the tightness and bitterness in her throat that had started to build up. _You won't cry, Michelle! You will not!_ she ordered herself. _Suck it up_.

All too soon, she heard the conference room door open and close, and brought her fingers to her eyes, pressing them on her eyelids to force the treacherous tear back inside. Moments later, a hand held her shoulder. She expected a more than justified 'what was that all about' statement, but instead, all Bill asked was, "Are you ok?"

She nodded silently. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I was out of line... I'll apologize to Lobell." With that, she looked at Bill.

"No, Ronnie apologized. He shouldn't have said that in your presence."

_Great. Last thing I need. Them thinking that they have to handle _me_ with kid gloves._

The expression on her face hardened. "Really, I am sorry. Ronnie's right and I know it. I guess I just wasn't prepared to hearing about Hammond today. I had a bad night." _A couple of them, actually_.

"No-one's blaming you."

_I am_.

Michelle glanced around the hallway. It was deserted for now but someone was bound to walk through at some point and she didn't want to get caught there alone with Bill. The very last thing she needed at this point were rumors about another office romance with her superior. Though with Tony it had never been just a romance...

So she moved away from the wall and Bill, who let go of her shoulder. "Are they waiting?"

"There's a ten minute recess." Bill glanced towards the main office, then back at her. "Look, if you want to go home, that's fine. Take the rest of the day off."

_What? He's sending me home? God, was I that bad?__ Yes, I was_. "No, that's ok. I'm fine."

"Michelle... You look like you could use some rest. I'll make up a story."

"They won't believe it." _They'll think I'm weak_._ They'll know you sent me home._

Bill let out a breath. "Fine, it's your call. But just so you know, I'll cover your back whenever I can."

"Thank you."

With that, Michelle filled her lungs with air-conditioned air and slowly began to trace her way back towards the meeting room. Bill followed her without a word.

**Day 44**

Tony sat at his desk working on yet another flaw in an older system version. He'd almost gotten used to doing work he firmly believed no-one really cared about, but had decided to grin and bear it for now. He was still new; in a couple of months, if things didn't change, he could talk to Michael and see what that was all about. But right now, his best bet seemed to be to play along. As long as the work remotely had something to do with what he was hired to do, he would take it.

Esther was there with Tony, in a chair next to his desk, her long blond hair open and falling over the purple silk blouse she wore. She had a conference block in her hand, writing something down. She finished her notes, raised her eyes to look at him. Tony had dark, grey rings under his eyes, and sat leaned back in the chair, one hand on his chin, the other on the keyboard, as if bored or immensely tired, or both. He was silent, tapping at the keyboard every now and then, staring at the screen.

"Did you manage to isolate it?" she said after a little while.

Tony's first reply was a small sigh and a thought, _Of course I did_. His second was a curt "Yeah."

Esther set her pen aside. "Tony, is everything all right?"

"Why?"

"You look tired."

Tony didn't move his eyes from the screen, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. _Yeah, I'm okay. With 20 years of experience under my belt, I'm a damn Systems Analyst doing busy work. I'm keeping awake at night 'cause it's better than restless sleep. And then I have to deal with morons like Nathan._ he thought bitterly. _But yeah, I'm ok_.

"Tony?"

"I'm fine. Look at this, I think I found the reason for the malfunction." he then said, pointing at the screen.

Nathan and Robin had just stepped inside the office after a coffee break. On a concrete pavement, Nathan, in grey slacks and shirt, might have been overlooked. Rob was in one of his cheap grey suits again, but this time, he'd chosen a bright, tree frog green shirt to go with it. Tony moved his eyes from the screen to look at them as they passed his desk. _Birds of a feather_...

Nathan, not casting a glance at anybody, lowered his butt on the chair by his desk and Rob went to his own to pick up a stash of files, about six inches thick, from it. With them under his arm, he walked across the office again, feeling the eyes of Nathan, Cory and Andy on him; Felix had the day off, one of his children had a school play. Now, Robin stopped at Tony's desk and demanded, "Esther, give us a minute."

She glanced at Tony, then replied hesitatingly, "Sure." She rolled her chair back to her own station, giving Tony a small smile as she did so.

Tony leaned back in his chair, elbow on armrest, twiddling a pen in his right hand. He met Robin and the stash of files with a doubtful look. "What's going on?"

"Tony, I need you to do something for me." The files landed on Tony's desk with a thud. "These files need to be archived electronically. I need you to scan them to this directory so we can access the data from outside the office." he said, patting his index finger at a directory path scribbled on a piece of paper on top of the file stash.

Tony's eyes widened in astonishment, his expression hardened. Hot blood ran to his head. _He wants me to do WHAT?_ His fist, clenched around the pen, slightly bent the hard plastic. He consciously prevented himself from grabbing Robin's throat. _You son of a bitch_... He bit his tongue to keep from exploding.

Esther found her words first and literally jumped from her chair. "Rob, that's not Tony's job! That's not even Cory's job. Find an apprentice for things like that!"

Tony didn't look at her, he kept his eyes on the dictator opposite him. _I don't believe this._ The pen in his hand bent even more.

Robin shot a shut up look at Esther, retorting, "It _is_ his job if I say so."

"You're an idiot, Robin."

"Mind your own business."

Tony had finally managed to breathe calmly enough to speak and threw the now somewhat crooked pen on the desk. "Look, uhm, Robin, could I speak to you in private for a moment?" he asked and without waiting for a reply, got up from his chair, walking to the hallway. Once out of an earshot, he found Robin's gaze. "What the hell is your problem with me?" he asked in a lowered voice. "I mean I'd really like to know. If you got something to say, just say it."

He waited a beat. Robin just stared at him as if uninterested and completely innocent.

Tony put his hands on his waist. "Since you got here, you've given me nothing but basic tasks and you know I'm more than capable, so don't try to tell me you don't know my potential yet. And do you think I haven't noticed that you and your bunch always somehow got something else to do whenever I show up? I would have assumed you could have acted a little more maturely."

"Listen up, Almeida, you work for me. If you don't like it, why don't you quit? There are other people out there who'll gladly take the job."

_Oh that's what this is about? Well, you're not going to get rid of me that easily, you bastard_._ I won't give you that satisfaction_. Tony stifled the urge to punch Rob, though barely, and instead just hissed, "Go to hell, you son of a bitch."

All eyes were on Tony as he marched across the office, heading back to his desk. Blood in his veins was boiling. He more or less fell into the chair, gripping the armrests with both his hands until his knuckles turned white and his wrists started to hurt. Then he abruptly let go of the chair, at the last moment stopping himself from slamming his fist on the desk and instead just gave the pile of files in front of him a hopelessly frustrated look.

Esther watched Robin come back inside and give Cory a conspiratorial glance in passing. Cory instantly stood from his workstation and joined Rob on the way through the office. She could see Robin whisper something to Cory but couldn't make out the words. Cory then tried to inconspicuously glance at her. Shaking her head in disgust, Esther sat down at the edge of Tony's desk. "Tony... I'm so sorry about all this. I don't know what the hell is wrong with them."

He forced himself to raise his head towards her. _I do_. he thought, unpleasant suspicion arising in his mind. Robin and Cory retreated back to their stations. Tony gave a sigh, attempted to smile at Esther. "Look… It's not your fault."

Esther's eyes focused on a spot on the grey speckled floor. Tony tried to find them. "Thank you for standing up for me. I appreciate it. Just don't jeopardize your job because of me, all right? It's not worth it."

Now her eyes returned to Tony's face. "I don't care. They're a bunch of... how do you say... jackasses. I cannot stand them."

Tony would have smiled at her choice of vocabulary had he not been too furious to.

Esther's palm came to rest on top of the files. "Tony, you don't have to do this; we can go to Michael and sort this out."

_And give them what they want?_ "No, it's ok. I'll do what Rob wants me to."

"You sure? Why? He's obviously using you."

_If I want to win this, it has to be in another way. Michael trusts me, yet Robin has his clique _and_ experience on his side. My word against theirs; they win and this becomes an open confrontation with me on the receiving end._The scenario seemed pretty straightforward, so Tony just gave a very small sigh. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Esther smiled, looking Tony directly in the eye. "Okay. But just so you know, if I can help you with _anything_, I will." She emphasized the last words.

"Yeah. Thank you."

Esther slightly brushed Tony's arm as she stood and lingered there for another second or two before sitting down by her own desk again. She and Tony exchanged a glance and a smile again, then Tony, with a heavy sigh, took the files and went to the copying room to start scanning the damned things.

--

Tony grabbed a few pages from the stack, almost threw one on the scanner and slammed the lid shut. Alone again, the anger had come back. _Oh, that goddamn son of a bitch. Trying to get me to quit, is he? It's not going to be that easy. Who does he think he is? Bastard_. Tony rubbed his neck, frustrated, as he clicked for the scan to start.

The sound of the machine was steady and, had the turmoil inside Tony not been beyond repair, the monotone might have been somewhat calming. But as it was, he just hoped he could keep it together until the end of the day. _Just a few more hours_, he thought. Momentarily closing his eyes, he tried to picture Michelle's face before him, but even that failed to calm him down.

In the main office, Esther glanced toward the copying room. She watched Tony for a few moments. She could see from his movements just how angry he still was. Glancing at Michael's office, she saw him in his chair, with the phone to his ear. "If you don't want to do anything about this, I will." she decided, muttering the words to herself. "As soon as Michael wraps up this call."

She stood from her desk to go to the restroom in the meantime and walked past the copying room on her way there. "Tony, you ok?" she asked from the doorframe.

Yanked out of his thoughts, Tony turned towards Esther's voice behind him. "Uhm, sorry. What did you say?"

She walked inside with a small smile on her face. "Just asking if you're ok. I still don't understand why you're letting them do this to you."

"I'm fine. Look, don't worry. I can handle Robin and the others. He's not the first egoist to cross my path."

"Ok." She replied, blushing somewhat. She glanced away from him, paused to let out a breath, then almost whispered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by, I... I'll just go." then she turned to walk out of the door.

"Wait." Tony said, taking a step after her, catching up with her before she was in the hallway. Letting out a long sigh, he scratched the scar in his neck. "Sorry, I, uhm... I didn't mean to be rude." he told her in a low voice. When she looked up, he added with raised eyebrows. "But this isn't your fight."

Esther smiled and nodded. "I know... Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. I'd just hate to be the cause if those guys turned against you."

"It's ok." she replied and noticed Nathan staring at them from his desk. "I'd better go." she added quickly.

"Yeah." Tony said, noticing Nathan's stare, too. She then went towards the restroom and he turned back to the scanner.

When Esther returned from the bathroom, she glanced upstairs to Michael's office and saw him pack his briefcase. Hastily, she picked up the phone and dialed his extension.

"Cook."

"Mr. Cook, it's Esther Wagner. I need to talk to you." She tried to keep her voice as soft as possible.

Michael turned in his chair so he could look at her through the glass wall of his office. "Esther, I'm sorry, I can't right now, I need to leave on an urgent matter. Tomorrow at noon?"

She sighed, meeting his eyes through the slightly tinted glass. No use bringing this to him if he was in a rush. "Yes, okay. Thank you." Esther hung up the phone. She didn't notice Robin Wilson's stare on her as she went back to work.


	18. Repercussions

**A/N: **Sorry about the chapter cuts; it's more by length than entity this time around. So, anyway, this chapter starts on the evening of the day where the last chapter left off.  
Thanks to all of ya for your (very welcome) reviews and hope you enjoy the following effort :-).

* * *

**Evening 44 **

Tony slammed the house door shut behind him, haphazardly threw the keys towards the sideboard, missing it. The keys clattered on the floor.

"Damn it." he swore half-heartedly, but proceeded to take off his jacket and hung it carelessly on the rack. The day's mail in one hand, he headed to the kitchen, not bothering to pick the keys up from the floor on his way there. He quickly sorted out the mail, leaving both his and Michelle's unopened envelopes and magazines on the counter. He filled a glass with water but then set it on the counter next to the mail.

He heaved a sigh on his way back to the living room. Stopping in front of the tall cabinet made of Spanish cedar wood that stood in the corner, he opened its door. A full bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label and Vat 69 each sat there, unopened, next to the half-empty Ballantine's. About one third bottle of crystal clear Absolut waited behind the whiskey bottles. Six tall and six short glasses stood, ready and willing, on the shelf above. Tony's throat was suddenly dry like desert sand and aching for a splash of liquid to soothe the displeasing sensation. _You promised Michelle... She trusts you to keep your word. That's why the bottles are still there, remember?_ he reminded himself.

He stared at the bottles, unmoving for what felt like minutes. Finally, with a long sigh, he closed the cabinet door and slumped into a black leather chair next to the couch, switching on the TV. Some long-haired idiot enjoyed his five melodramatic minutes of fame being interviewed about his next door neighbor who had gone missing. The female reporter constantly nodded in approval like a horse on a racetrack and sent practiced looks towards the camera every two or three seconds. Tony didn't pay attention. It seemed to him like the bottles were still calling out to him from the cabinet. He turned up the volume on the TV. _No, I can't._

He couldn't stand to listen to the idiot talk any longer and switched the channel. Again. And again. All other channels proved uninteresting to the same extent. Not that he really wanted to watch anything anyway. He continued channel-surfing while his mind moved on without him. _That power hungry son of a bitch._ he thought. _Robin sees me as a threat. Weak, egoistical bastard._

All of a sudden, Tony dropped the remote control onto the seat next to him, began to hastily unbutton his shirt. His face was red, his neck moist and he almost tore the shirt while pulling it off his body. He threw it onto the couch but kept the sleeveless undershirt on and took a long breath of relief. Then he grabbed the remote control again and leaned back in the armchair. The cold, black leather cooled his shoulders and arms for a mere moment before heating up again. His sweaty arms stuck to the leather but he didn't care. He switched the channel again. An unexciting blonde squeaked something into the mike on another rerun of American Idol. Tony frowned and switched to Gol TV, increased the volume even more, then threw the remote to the couch.

He scratched the stubble on his face. _Now it all makes sense. They're all in it together._ he concluded. Robin's face appeared before his mind's eye and Tony imagined punching him all the way to the moon. _I don't believe this. Why can't I just have a normal job with normal people, why do I keep running into assholes?_

He sighed deeply, rubbing the scar in his neck. Back at CTU, when he was in charge, he knew how to deal with scum; it was easy: follow orders or be gone; but now, things were more complicated than that. First of all, he was _not_ in charge. That made a world of difference._ Well, I won't give the assholes the satisfaction of seeing them win. Not without a fight_.

--

When Michelle unlocked the door to the house and entered, it was almost dark outside. She heard a loud male voice speak fast from the living room and chantingof some crowd. She smiled to herself slightly, took off her shoes, arranging them neatly on the floor before calling Tony's name from the hallway. Not getting a reply, she moved further in, slipping her blazer off her shoulders as she did so.

"Ouch." she moaned softly, her bare foot stepping on Tony's keys on the floor. Sending an unreturned glance towards his figure in the armchair, she picked up the keys and placed them on the sideboard where he normally kept them. She hesitated a moment, watching him from the hallway; his head leaned back, hands on his thighs, eyes closed. Twenty guys on the large screen opposite him ran after a white ball on a green field, their actions enthusiastically followed and commented by the excited voice, in the language which she now recognized as Spanish.

Slowly, she took a few steps into the living room. "Hey."

Tony didn't react, so she approached the couch with an affectionate smile, crouched next to him, rested a hand on his thigh.

Tony instinctively tensed at the sensation but before he could even react he heard Michelle's voice whisper, "Hey." and then felt a kiss planted on his cheek.

Snapped out of his thoughts, Tony opened his eyes, meeting hers. "Hey. I didn't hear you come in."

"Since when do you watch soccer?" she asked with an amused look on her face.

Tony just shrugged.

Michelle moved her hand up and down his thigh. "Where were you?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry."

Michelle's closeness and touch suddenly felt intrusive to Tony, his privacy violated. Without a warning, he stood, strode to the kitchen. Stopping by the counter, he grabbed the glass he'd previously filled with water and gulped down its contents.

While he drank, Michelle remained by the armchair with a somewhat puzzled look on her face, but then took a breath and followed him to the kitchen.

"Honey, you ok? What's going on?" she asked, glancing at the unopened mail on the counter in passing. "Did something happen at work?"

"Nothing is going on. I'm fine. " Tony said, facing away from her, setting the empty glass next to the sink.

Michelle gave a small sigh, walking to him, tentatively touching his shoulder from behind. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just drop it, all right!" he snapped. _I don't need your pity. And I don't need you to know you were right._

Startled, Michelle pulled her arm away from him and stepped back.

Tony leaned his hands on the edge of the sink in front of him, staring at the faucet, his eyes burning a hole in the metal. The carotid artery in his neck pulsated visibly, his shoulders and biceps tensed strongly and he despised his inability to control his body's response to his anger.

Michelle took another step back, crossing her arms at her chest. Her voice remained steady despite her perplexity. "Fine."

Tony remained standing where he was, his eyes closed now. _Please, just leave me alone._

There was worry in Michelle's eyes as she sat down by the kitchen table with a sigh that escaped Tony's attention. For a full minute she waited for him to turn around but he didn't.

He knew damn well she was trying to make him laugh when she asked in a light voice, "Should I cook dinner tonight?"

He knew she _needed_ to hear him laugh, and any other time, the running gag would have worked; but now, Tony showed not the slightest sign of amusement.

"No. I'm not hungry."

His reply was more toneless than intended, but he just shrugged at it inwardly. At least she might eventually get the message and let it be. Without glancing at Michelle in passing, he marched out of the kitchen, leaving her there alone, and went upstairs.

* * *

**Day 45**

Esther, sitting by her desk, hung up the office phone and checked her watch. 11:20. _Soon_.

She grabbed her black blazer that hung on the backrest of her chair, put it on, locked her terminal. With a glance towards Michael's office, she headed to the restroom. On her way there, she passed the copying room where Tony was again standing by the scanner, now getting started on a new pile of files to be electronically archived. She stopped in the doorframe for a moment. "Hey."

Tony turned his head in her direction. The rings underneath his eyes were deeper and darker than yesterday, the smile in the corners of his lips too slight, his voice more quiet than usual. "Hey. How's the network?"

"Stable." she smiled. "You want a cup of coffee?"

Tony sighed. "I think I've had enough coffee to drown today. Thanks anyway."

Esther nodded, "Okay. See you later."

"Yeah."

_I'll get you out of that copying room soon_. she thought and rushed away.

Five minutes later, she opened the restroom door and just about bumped into Robin outside. She tried to walk past him but he remained in her path. Annoyed, she looked at him, crossing her arms. "What is it?"

"Come with me."

"Where?"

Instead of replying, Robin snuffled, then led her down the hallway. He stopped by the door of a storage room, holding it open for her. This was the same room where Esther had walked in on Robin and his bunch a while ago, when they were first discussing Tony. The lights were dimmed now and the shelves in the half-lit room cast long shadows on the floor. Nathan, Cory and Andy were inside, gathered in the middle of the room. As Esther walked in, Felix emerged from the shadows of the shelves. Cory slipped his cell phone back in his pocket. Esther took a step back towards the hallway but found Robin behind her in the doorframe and stopped.

"What are you trying to do here?" Her voice quivered despite her attempt to keep it steady.

Robin said nothing but stepped inside the room, forcing Esther in as well, then closed the door behind him, slowly. As Esther was more or less encircled by the others, Robin installed himself in front of her.

"What are you doing?" Esther asked again.

"Trying to save you." Robin replied pointedly and snuffled.

Esther's eyes opened widely. "Save me?"

"Yes. You're about to make a big mistake."

Long silence followed; Esther looked at all five men, one after another. _Oh yeah, I think I have a pretty good idea what this is all about._ Then she found Robin's eyes again and retorted. "Why, because I don't hate Tony like you do?"

"You're falling in love with him!" Nathan almost shouted in her face.

Esther knew that in Nathan's dreams, he was supposed to be the lucky guy. Clearly, his ego was majorly hurt by her rejection.

"Whom I like or don't like is none of your business." she hissed at him, disgusted. "You're pathetic, Nathan. You enjoy your little spot in this gang 'cause you're worth nothing. You have nothing to offer but a dangerously blown up ego and a few snide remarks. You're short, bald and ugly and I bet you're still a virgin. No wonder you're single. "

Nathan lifted his hand to slap Esther but Robin caught his arm before he could, held it firmly by the wrist. Neither of them spoke but Robin's angry glare eventually won and Nathan jerked his arm free. The look in his eyes was still venomous but he didn't try to strike out at Esther again.

Then Robin looked at her almost placably. "Listen up, babe, I'm giving you a chance to back off here before you get caught up in this too deep to ever get out." His voice was steady and calculated. "Leave Almeida alone. Let us do our thing and you'll be fine."

Esther almost laughed out loud. "_I_ should leave Tony alone?_ You_ are the idiots that should leave him alone. What you're doing is plainly wrong. There's a name for it, I believe it's called mobbing."

"Yeah, it is. I want him out of here." Robin admitted. The decisiveness in his voice made it clear he knew she would never dare repeat his words once outside the room. "And I want _you_ to take a long vacation, starting Monday. I don't care where you go, as long as you don't show up here for a few weeks."

_How dare you? _Esther straightened her back, held Robin's stare. "You are not my boss nor is this the Army." The mistake was deliberate, she knew was an Air Force man and not a fan of the Army. She hoped to irritate him a bit and paused before adding. "I don't take orders from you."

Robin just smirked and simply said, "Cory."

Cory briefly scratched his scalp underneath his baseball cap before producing a thin file folder and holding it, still closed, in front of him. He then looked at Esther with a gravity uncharacteristic of his age. "You have a 24 year old brother called Florian, don't you? Florian Wagner?" He paused for a little while. "Do I need to say more?"

Esther didn't reply, nor would she have been able to. Her face fell. Her eyes took on a glassy appearance. The hairs on her arms began to stand on end. She never expected they would go this far or this low. She knew exactly where they were going with this. _You bastards. You bastards. _she repeated in her head, fearing her options would be very limited very soon.

Robin let a few more moments pass, a single snuffle the only sound in the room before he stated calmly, "Cory, finish the story. Maybe she does want to hear it."

Cory nodded obediently. His cell phone vibrated but he had to ignore it for now. He rolled the cardboard file folder into a cylinder before explaining what he knew.

"You came to the States five years ago. Your brother joined you four years later, coming directly from Germany; Frankfurt, right?" he said, pausing again. "While you had settled your affairs in Germany prior to leaving, your brother was just up and gone, apparently... Oh, and does he have a Green Card?" he added in an innocent voice.

"Well, a friend of a friend owed me a favor. Reportedly, a Florian Wagner is wanted by the German police for armed theft just about 14 months ago. We're sure they'd appreciate a hint as to his whereabouts."

By now, Esther was slightly recovered from the shock and managed to mumble, "Bastard."

Florian has always been the less mature of the two siblings. Eight years younger, he always looked up to his sister but at some point in his young life took a wrong turn and got caught up in a stupid scheme, through some friends who weren't good for him. He was too naive at the time to see he was being set up. Esther never really found out just what exactly they were trying to accomplish, but when their plan failed, Florian only barely managed to leave the country, head over heels. Esther let him stay with her, has been hiding him from both the German and the American authorities. If he were found, they'd both get arrested.

Esther groaned inwardly. How Cory had managed to find out the information was irrelevant. They had it.

Now Robin tilted his head to find her eyes. "Esther, be smart. You're trying to fight on two fronts. You can't protect both Almeida and your brother." he told her. "You're gonna have to choose."

Esther's eyes narrowed so much that her pupils were almost completely hidden behind her eyelashes. Her lips thinned into two stripes. She fought the urge to just yell. Meanwhile, Robin continued.

"Come on, Esther, is it worth risking your freedom? Or your brother's?" He paused. "You don't even know Almeida. Let it be. Take a vacation. Don't say anything to anybody about this, and we'll keep the information about Florian to ourselves. It won't leave this room, I promise." He paused again to snuffle. "But if you go to Michael or continue to stand in the way of what we're trying to do here, you know what will happen."

Esther returned the stare although just looking at him made her feel sick. Through her teeth, she uttered, "I hate you. All of you."

"That's your right." Robin replied coolly, "As long as you take that vacation."

Esther forced herself to breathe, even took a step away from Robin, away from the others and they let her out of the circle. She stared at their faces for a few seconds. She hated this situation. She felt weak and she hated feeling weak. She didn't know how to help Tony without betraying her promise to Florian to keep him safe. She liked Tony. She loved her brother. She was always strong and independent; always the one with the answers. And now she felt like there was nothing she could do to help herself - and she hated being helpless.

She moved her eyes from Robin to Felix and from there to the other men in the room. The situation was reminiscent of certain high school days; as the only girl in a male class. But in those times, she knew how to fight back. This was different.

Eventually, she sighed to herself. "Can you at least tell me why you hate Tony so much?"

"We don't." Felix, who had been silent so far, replied and then Andy finished, "We're just getting rid of a bad apple, that's all."

"Enough." Robin cut them short, giving Esther a questioning look. "So?"

Esther now glared back at Robin. All eyes were on her, ten eyes, but it wasn't the pressure of the expectations that forced her decision.

"I'll do it." she mumbled, her voice hardly audible.

"Good."

Robin then snatched the file from Cory's hand. "And just so you don't forget, take this with you. Makes for a good read. You can keep it. We have copies."

As Esther, reluctantly, took it, Robin walked to the door and opened it. "Go." he told her, and she, after little hesitation, did.

She passed the copying room but didn't look inside. Tony heard the quick footsteps approaching and looked towards the door just fast enough to see her disappear behind the doorframe again.

Disillusioned and angry, Esther slumped into the chair at her desk and shoved the file into one of her drawers, which she then locked. She looked up towards Michael's glass walls. It was almost noon now and he would soon call her upstairs.

A couple minutes later, she saw Robin walk back inside the office, then, one by one, always a minute or so behind the last, the other men walked in and took their seats at their workstations.

_Mission accomplished, you morons_. she thought, at the same time feeling devastated and stirred up about being part of that success. Soon, she would go to Michael's office and make up a story about a family emergency. She would ask for a vacation and she knew it would be granted. She couldn't throw her brother out to the lions but Tony was now all alone, a sheep among the wolves; all she could do is hope he'd quit before he got fired.

The cell phone on her desk vibrated and she looked at the display. She had a new text message from an unknown number. She opened it. It read:  
'Esther, I need to talk to you. Outside. Felix.'

She frowned. _Why, you haven't insulted me enough yet? _

She clicked on 'reply' and answered, 'Go to hell.'

A second later, her office phone rang. "Esther, you can come up now." Michael let her know, and she, hesitatingly, did**.  
**

* * *

**Day 46**

The roads leading out of L.A. were packed on this perfect California summer day: blue skies, naked sun, hot air swirling above the baked asphalt. Michelle sat at the steering wheel of Tony's SUV, moving fast down a coastal highway. Next to her, in the passenger seat, Tony was looking out of the window. The blue ocean stretched as far West as the eye could see, blending with the pale sky on the horizon. Dark grey silhouettes of a few cargo ships seemed to stand still on the boundary of the water and the air. Tony didn't count the mile posts at the side of the road nor did he know where Michelle was taking them.

"Come on, honey. Just the two of us." she urged him at breakfast. "You'll like it."

He was reading the paper when she asked him; he didn't really feel like going anywhere, let alone spending the whole weekend away - but he couldn't say no to her. He never could. Sometimes it was a curse. So he agreed. And she refused to tell him where this place was that she wanted to show him; she just told him they'd need his car. So here they were, moving South, one vehicle among hundreds, maybe thousands, in a rush to escape the filthy air of the city for the weekend, caught up among tourists on their exploratory journeys.

A signpost put them 95 miles North of Tijuana, Mexico. Tony smirked lightly. The first time Jack went undercover with the Salazars, he took this very same highway South and crossed the border at Tijuana before Hector picked him up. _Who knows, maybe there's one or another undercover agent among the vehicles in sight right now_. an uninvited thought crossed Tony's mind briefly. Though all this had happened in a previous life, Tony couldn't help but remember with a bit of nostalgia the day Jack went to Mexico for the first time. And the second. Both times Tony had been Jack's eyes and ears on this side of the border, both times his lifeline, his insurance.

He remembered the endless workdays it took to gather intel, prep the mission, dispatch every single unit to the right place, relay each command with no margin for error. Not that that margin was ever any higher than zero at CTU but somehow, every time he ran point on a field mission for Jack, Tony put in extra effort to make sure nothing went unnoticed, to ensure to the best of his knowledge that all bases were covered; and it came naturally. And then he remembered having to hide the second mission from Michelle and how it hurt her. They'd never really talked it over. He didn't look at her but wondered if she could or would forgive him. Or if she has.

Tony's eyes fixed on one of the forms on the horizon. To his trained eye, the gray ship was unmistakably a Navy vessel. For just a moment he wondered where it was headed to and where it came from. Camp Pendleton was close; the same base Ragen's militia mercenaries attacked and almost leveled on the day Tony almost died at Ragen's hands; and then at Hammond's.

_The Marines that died that day, maybe I knew some of them_.

It ached. It ached to see his comrades fall for nothing. It enraged him. It enraged him to the point of pain. And again his mind dragged him back to that day.

_If I had stopped Ragen in time_... _Damn it_.

No-one who knew him ever wondered why Tony became a Marine. Since the age of two, he almost instantly subjected all new toys to the float test. Anything that could float would keep little Tony's attention; everything else was left untouched, or rather, sunk on the bottom of whatever it was that held the water for the test. And for someone who didn't know him, the answer was simple:

"Three words: honor, courage, commitment."

Add to these core values the challenge and the chance to combine ground combat and ships plus Tony's deeply rooted patriotism and urge to serve his country and you're on the right track.

Though Rosita, like all mothers, feared that one day she wouldn't get him back from one of his deployments, the one thing that appeased her, however slightly, was the knowledge that Tony would never for one second regret his decision and accept all consequences thereof. Though he was her son, he was also a man. A man of integrity and honor and she never really had another choice but to support him. And she always did.

"Tony?" he heard Michelle's voice next to him and turned to her. "We're almost there." she said through a small smile.

"Yeah." Yanked out of his musings, he returned her smile with a small one of his own and she turned her sunglasses-covered eyes to the street again. She had left the highway, turning onto a smaller road. Tony now realized they were on a badly paved road, rough and bumpy, seemingly far from civilization. On both sides of the road, bushes hid the view to the side, and there was nothing but water far ahead. Michelle's right hand slid down the steering wheel and onto Tony's thigh, eyes unflinchingly focused straight ahead.

"You still haven't told me where we're going. Want to give me a clue here?" Tony asked with a smile.

"No." She squeezed his thigh slightly. "We're almost there, honey."

With these words she slowed down and turned onto an even smaller road. The ocean was suddenly hidden from view. The road became steeper. The SUV climbed the few yards with ease. Near the top, the stripe of sky became taller again, slowly growing until the horizon became visible and the whole ocean was revealed to them in a breathtaking view. Michelle stopped the car at the highest point, the engine still humming. She looked at Tony, whose eyes had widened at the sight ahead. Tony turned his head towards her just in time for her lips to meet his.

And then, her arm around his neck, she whispered, "We're here."

For a moment Tony was simply speechless and looked into Michelle's eyes. Still a bit dumbfounded, he leaned in closer to her, his arm finding its way to Michelle's shoulder and around it. "Where…How did you find a place like this?"

"Peta told me about it." She planted another soft kiss on his mouth, then added with a grin, "You like it?"

"Yeah, I like it." Tony smiled, brushing aside a curl of her hair.

"Wait until you see the beach."

A sudden thump on the windshield made Michelle wince and let out a small surprised shriek. Instinctively, Tony put his arms around her protectively, pulled her against him. A dark shadow was flying away from the vehicle to land on the roadside and he breathed out, relieved. "It was just a bird." he whispered. _A stupid bird._

But then the car started rolling downhill, and Tony realized only then that Michelle had let go off the steering wheel in the moment of surprise.

"Hey, let's not wreck anything, at least not yet." he quipped at her, grabbing the wheel with the hand that was around Michelle's shoulders. His right hand pulled the parking brake on and the car stopped. He turned the key in the ignition, turning off the engine. "There."

Michelle laughed. "Thanks."

Tony took her back into his arms, hugged her, burying his face in her curls for a second. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back to hear Michelle ask, "Want to take a walk?"

"Definitely." he agreed, letting go of her. He grabbed the car keys out of habit and climbed out of the car. "Lead the way."

_Maybe these couple of days will do me some good_, he mused, breathing in the salty air, the scent of the ocean that never quite smelled the same in the city.

Michelle dismounted the vehicle, closed the door. Joining Tony, who waited for her, she took his hand, drew near him. Tony's arm slid around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder a little. The soft sand underneath their shoes gave in to their weight at each step, the wind danced with Michelle's curls, combed Tony's hair back.

For a few minutes they walked in silence. Tony took in the interplay of the sounds around him; the grains of sand scrunching almost inaudibly underneath their shoes, the waves crashing on to the shore, the seagulls crying above them. The sun warmed his face, it would be a scorching day. He closed his eyes, concentrating solely on feeling the warmth of Michelle's body by his side, her closeness that he didn't realize he missed so much.

Some hundred steps later, they reached a breakwater, and Tony steered them to a big, round, gray rock which he sat on, pulling Michelle to sit on his lap. White water bathed the rocks underneath them, instantly retreating back only to be swallowed and thrust back ahead by another wave that came from behind, continuing the hypnotic swooshing of the ocean. Tony rested his chin on Michelle's shoulder, arms wrapped around her stomach, and stared out to the endless horizon. His breathing was slow; quiet and deep. He felt his wife's presence with his whole body, but pulled her a little closer still, closing the small gap between them. Michelle led her hands to Tony's, caressing his fingers, closed her eyes, for a moment just listening to the waves.

A few minutes later, Tony whispered to Michelle's ear. "Sweetheart... How did I deserve this?"

Michelle gently squeezed his hand, "You're my husband... And I love you."

Her voice justified not the slightest shred of doubt. She leaned her cheek on Tony's. Tony moved a hand into her hair; the fruity scent rising from it was stronger than the salty air of the ocean but Tony would never have complained about it. Instead, his face again sought refuge in Michelle's rich locks. Of course he loved her, too; he'd give her every beat of his heart. Everything, no questions asked. But he figured she knew. More words would just spoil the moment. So he just sat there and said nothing.

--

"You know, Tony, I don't know how you do it, but you can even make canned food taste good." Michelle called to Tony through a smile while carefully putting the empty can into a trash bag. She then made a knot into the bag and threw it to the ground next to their tent.

"It's a gift, I know." Tony smirked, returning from washing out the pan in the saltwater. Behind him, the sky on the horizon had turned into a golden veil. Kneeling beside Michelle in the sand, he pulled her in for a quick kiss with one arm.

"You have spaghetti sauce on your nose, Mister." Michelle whispered, still in his embrace.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... Right -" she kissed his nose, "there."

"All gone now?" Tony grinned.

Michelle gave his nose a scrutinizing look. "Yeah I think so."

"Thank you so much. Will your perfect cleaning lips please make sure there are no further tomato sauce stains on my face?"

"I have a better idea." She grabbed his hand. "Come on." And she was running towards the sunset, dragging him along.

"'Chelle, I'm wearing my Armanis." he tried protesting, though weakly.

"Take them off." was her simple reply. They were already at the waterline and she began undressing. Half a minute later she was standing in her panties. "Come on, Marine. I thought you liked the sea."

"You're nuts." he managed to utter but she was already unbuttoning his shirt.

Through a wide grin, she laughed, "I never claimed otherwise."

Tony unbuckled his belt, rid himself of the Armanis. Ten seconds later he found himself being drawn towards the water. It hit his ankles first; the gentle tickling of the tiny waves in the shallow water, the wet element unexpectedly warm. He held Michelle's hand, more for fear of losing her to the lowering darkness than anything else, and soon, they both stood up to their shoulders in the waves.

Michelle dove briefly, wetting her hair, pulled Tony down with her. He felt waves travel toward the shore above him, a warm current beneath him, the turbulence caused by the movements of Michelle's body ahead of him. The unrelenting motion of the water on all sides and the feeling of being submerged in the vast ocean somehow had a cleansing touch. He had almost forgotten how fully free and weightless he was when he swam. He hasn't done it in years. Not since the honeymoon with Michelle. He used to love to swim; how many times did he ignore Rosita's attempts to call him back to the shore on vacations, or out of a swimming pool back in Chicago. Way too many to count. Meals were not that important. Water gave him freedom. And now, after everything, it began to feel that way again.

He emerged out of the water for air and found Michelle six feet ahead of him, swimming away. He grinned and with two strokes caught up with her, then grabbed her legs, pulling her to him. He ignored her initially startled reaction, turned her to him and sealed his lips on hers firmly, breathing into her. She reciprocated the kiss willingly.

--

Tony walked out of the ocean, carrying Michelle in front of him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands around his neck. Her lips and tongue found his again and again, his own body a loaded gun. Ten steps beyond the waterline, he kneeled into the dry sand, laying her body down on the towel carefully. He stopped kissing her and propped himself up on his elbows, brushed a strand of wet hair away from her brow. In the pale moonlight her face had a somewhat surreal glow but somehow he thought she'd never been more beautiful. Her hands slid to his back and she gently began to pull him down. Tony gave her a deep kiss but then pulled back. "Did you take the Pill?"

Michelle opened her eyes to look at him. He could read puzzlement in them. "No. I'm not taking it anymore."

Tony kissed her nose, "Why not?"

"We agreed we wanted to start a family, remember?" she answered, unable to hide a slight irritated note in her voice.

Though Tony's hand remained on her breast, the look in his eyes grew absent.

_No, Almeida, you can't do that to an innocent child. You don't deserve a family. You don't want to brand your child a traitor's son._ Then he rolled off Michelle and onto the cold sand.

Michelle let out a frustrated breath. "What is it? Tony..."

He sighed. " 'Chelle...uh..."

He took a long breath, a few long breaths, silent, his eyes closed. _I'm sorry, love. I just can't be responsible for putting that child's future in jeopardy. It's better if it's never born. _

"Sweetheart, I..." he finally began but it took another long sigh before he ended his sentence. "I'm not sure about this."

"About what?" Michelle questioned, sitting up. "You're the one who wanted a family in the first place. _You_ asked _me_, remember?"

"Yeah.. I do. I do remember. It's just... I can't."

"You can't what? You can't even sleep with me anymore?"

"I _can't_ have a family, Michelle, stop it!" he snapped.

He sat up but couldn't look at her. His head was turned down and to the side as he added in a low voice, "Forget about the whole thing. It was a bad idea."

"Why?" Michelle brought a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Tony, what's going on? Please, tell me what's going on."

"Just forget about it." he retorted and stood, almost instantly running back into the ocean. As he dove into the black wave, he wished it would just swallow him and carry him away. As far away as possible. Gone. Forever.


	19. When it rains, it pours

**A/N: **This chapter took a lot of work, it really wasn't easy to write and I couldn't let go, there was always _something_ that could still be done better. It felt a bit like walking a ledge. But after editing it for like, at least 30 times, here's a version I deem acceptable. Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews so far. And thanks for sticking with our favorite couple. Stay strong ;-)

* * *

**Day 47**

Hot rays of sun reflected back from the silver grey roof of Tony's SUV as the vehicle swooshed past the same road signs as the day before but now in the opposite order. Tony was sitting at the wheel, generally silent and pensive, only cussing at the Sunday drivers on the highway from time to time. The traffic was unusually fluent, though, so Tony had his window open instead of turning on the A/C. The late morning air was whistling by the rolled down window, combing his hair back. The radio was on, though it wasn't more than background noise. He wasn't really listening to it anyway, but Michelle had turned it on before lowering her seat and closing her eyes shortly after they left the beach so he'd let it be. But, as usual, the host was talking too much, so Tony eventually pushed the button and killed the constant blabbing. Before he turned his attention to the traffic again, he glanced at Michelle.

When Tony turned off the radio, she didn't protest. Her eyes were still shut. Now she listened to the humming of their own engine, and those around them. The skin on her right arm and shoulder was heated up from the sun. The pink tank top she wore really didn't protect her from that and she would have wanted to cover her arm with a piece of clothing to prevent a sunburn, yet she resolved not to move. If she did, Tony would likely strike up a conversation and she didn't know if she could pretend everything was okay right now. She didn't want to, either. Not that he'd buy it.

Her closed eyelids were the necessary wall between her and Tony, the only thing that maintained the distance she felt both of them needed. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was grateful for the ample space between them that the SUV allowed for. She didn't feel ready to bring up the topic of last night, so she just tried to block out Tony's periodic swearing and pretended to sleep.

Pretending to sleep; that's what she'd done the previous night, too, at least for a while. By the time Tony emerged from the ocean again, she'd gone inside the tent. She lay there wrapped in her sleeping bag, fighting hard to keep from crying, to keep the sour taste in her throat from creeping up. Through the yellow wall of the tent, the outlines of Tony's body contrasted against the dim light of the camping lantern and the moonlight outside. Tony dried himself with a four feet long navy blue beach towel, took a couple of steps towards the tent, then stopped. For a few seconds Michelle watched him stand there and was sure he was listening to any sounds from the inside. Though she couldn't rationally explain why, she held her breath for twenty seconds. Then Tony stepped back and got dressed and Michelle was breathing again. Eventually, his silhouette moved back in her direction, halting just a couple feet away from the tent.

"Michelle?" he called to her insecurely.

She met him with silence.

"'Chelle, please... I know you're awake."

She closed her eyes tightly. Yeah, he knew her well enough. He could always read her mind if he wanted to and she'd never been able to hide much from him. Quite contrary to Tony, as she'd learned on the day of Jack's sting operation against the Salazars. Four weeks and she had no idea. Four full weeks.

She said nothing.

Visibly frustrated, Tony put his hands on his hips, tilted his head to the side and sighed loudly enough for her to hear. After a pause he urged her, "Michelle... We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Tony. Leave me alone." she answered,managing to keep her voice firm.

Fixing her eyes on Tony's figure outside, she saw his shoulders sag, heard him let out a heavy breath. Even without looking into his eyes, she could easily imagine the stab of pain they reflected as he stood there unmoving.

Then Tony threw to the ground the towel that had been around his neck and slowly walked away. Seconds later, Michelle heard him open and close the trunk and then a door of the SUV and then there was silence. And finally, she allowed her eyes to well up and hoped that these tears would manage to do what none of their predecessors ever did, and for once indeed wash away her pain, as cheesy as it sounded.

--

She must have cried herself to sleep because four hours later she woke up. _Tony? _was her first thought as she opened her eyes to the surrounding darkness. She felt the space next to her for his body, yet he wasn't there. She grabbed a flashlight and shone it at an empty sleeping bag. An unused, empty sleeping bag. Then she remembered. _T__he car._

With a sigh, she rubbed her face, unzipped her sleeping bag and rolled out of it. The flashlight on, she walked out into the night, slipping on her black fleece jacket that was two numbers too large. She bought it too large deliberately because she could wear multiple layers of clothes underneath it on cold days. As she stepped out into the chilly night, she actually wished she were wearing more.

She shone the flashlight towards the SUV briefly. The car was uninhabited. She sighed. _Hopefully he's not swimming again. He'd have that much sense in him, right?_ She glanced at the pile of towels and camping things outside the tent. His clothes weren't there. Nevertheless, she strode towards the ocean, following the narrow path of lightand the footprints in the sand . She didn't hear any sounds coming from the ocean apart from the waves. On a hunch, she followed the waterline, the wet sand, watching for a pile of clothes nearby. She didn't find it, but she eventually found Tony. He was sitting on the breakwater where they'd sat together the previous morning. He wore a dark cotton shirt whose tails flagged in the wind, and a t-shirt underneath it. No sweatshirt, no jacket. The waves splashed onto the rock and his bare feet. His Armanis were wet at least three inches up from the rim. As Michelle approached the breakwater from a distance, Tony lifted his head briefly in her direction before fixing his eyes on his feet.

There was a trace of guilt in his hoarse voice as he whispered, "Couldn't sleep."

"You'll catch your death out here."

Tony let out a small laugh at her worried tone. "Would it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

Tony's notorious grin, a mixture of sarcasm, self-depreciation and hurt, stayed in place.

Michelle shook her head, sighing. _Oh, Tony... _She turned off the flashlight and took off the fleece jacket.

"No. Michelle. Don't."

But she was already putting it on him. "You need it more than I do. You shouldn't get sick."

"My missing spleen won't kill me."

_No, but your behavior might_. she thought but didn't comment. Instead, she sat down on a rock near him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Dunno. Couple hours, probably longer."

"Your hair is still damp."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a minute or two, staring at the boundless black ocean. Occasionally, like a tiny light, a wave flickered in the distance.

"Look, Michelle..." Tony began, his eyes now on the waves right below the rock he was sitting on. "About what I said back there..."

Michelle's eyes stared into the darkness. _Tell me you didn't mean it._

He sighed. "I really shouldn't have said it that way."

_Oh. Then you did mean it._

He paused for a moment, breathing in and out as if fighting against himself to make the words come out. "I just need you to understand that this has nothing to do with you."

_Nothing to do with me? _Michelle shot a look at him as he said this.

"It's me. I don't... think that starting a family is the right thing for us at this point."

_It's not the right thing. Great._ Michelle took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She remembered the night Tony asked her, on the day Sebastián became a father. She could still see the sparkle in Tony's eyes as he spoke about the infant with excitement and anticipation. Lately, Tony's eyes had been hollow.

It's not that she so desperately wanted a family. In fact, had Tony not mentioned the topic in the first place, she probably wouldn't have been the one to express the wish. The real pain sat in a different place. That thick brick wall of his mind that kept her out. Out of everything.

These days she wondered if he still loved her. She'd always ended up scolding herself for that thought in the past, but tonight, for the first time, it didn't feel that much off. She allowed it to linger.

She couldn't believe that he seemed to suddenly think only about himself when she knew him better. Or she thought she did... Tony always cared. He always put her ahead of everything else, ahead of himself. Heck, he'd put her well-being above the country's without so much as batting an eyelid. But something was going on. Somewhere in the deep, dark abyss of his shrouded mind, something was taking possession of him and she was forced to stand there and watch, unable to do anything about it. He wasn't l_etting_ her help and she hated it. As much as she hated her unpreparedness for this particular discussion.

But knowing he expected some kind of an answer, she looked at him from the side. "You know, Tony, these things usually concern _two_ people." Her voice was too quiet to hear from farther than two feet away over the noise of the ocean. "I just wish you'd talked to me before making this call on your own."

Tony's eyes were still fixed on the relentless dance of the waves underneath him. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't."

_Baby? _Michelle was still shaking her head at his choice of words when she stood. "I assume you're not going to tell me what made you change your mind?"

For the first time since she found him, Tony really looked at her now. "I can't. It's not your burden to bear."

"Fine..." _Then there's nothing left to discuss_. She nodded and turned to leave but then faced him again. "I don't know if you still remember, but we took a vow when we got married." Their eyes locked. "How can I stand by you if you keep me out?"

Tony just averted his eyes from her and stared at his feet. She waited for a reply, but got none. Not surprisingly, if she was honest. Though she had hoped otherwise. Eventually, she took a long breath. "At least do yourself a favor and don't sit here much longer."

Then she turned away again and started towards the tent. She disappeared inside it and crawled back into the sleeping bag. The cozy warmth that she'd crawled out of earlier was gone but would warm up within minutes. Sadly, that would be the only comfort she was going to get tonight. _So what are you going to do now?_ she asked herself. _He doesn't need you. _

_He needs me more than he knows._

_Stop. Stop thinking about this now. You can't._

She grabbed the LA Times that Tony had left behind and looked at the very first article on page one. _You can't sleep now anyway._ The paper was a welcome distraction. She immersed herself into it completely. Ten minutes later, she heard the car door slammed shut and let out a breath of relief. _Good, at least he's back inside now. Why is he doing this to himself? Trying to get sick. _

_Stop. _

Back to the paper. She focused her full attention on the articles, dissecting every single one of them as if they all contained crucial clues to imminent terrorist attacks. Shortly before sunrise she dozed off. When she woke up half an hour later, she felt exhausted, but the sun was up, the SUV's trunk and back doors were open and Tony was already packing.

--

The streets of L.A. had welcomed Tony and Michelle back and the SUV was just a few hundred yards away from their home. It stopped at a red light and Tony looked at his wife. Her eyes were still closed like they had been since they left the beach. His gaze rested on her seemingly peaceful face and closed eyelids for a moment. He could always tell when she was faking it and she'd been faking it all along. But it didn't matter. If she'd wanted to talk to him, she would have. It was her choice.

The bottle of water by her side was untouched, she hadn't moved even once - consciously, he was certain of it. Not that he could blame her. He knew he'd hurt her. Badly. He despised himself when he made her cry, and he knew she'd been crying. It was unavoidable with what he'd decided to tell her, but eventually, it was for her own good. Her reputation was tarnished already - because of him. Having a child with a traitor would probably destroy it. She and the kid would have to fight the shadow of his conviction for the rest of their lives. And he couldn't stand to do that to Michelle. He wouldn't. He loved her too much for that.

It might have been a macho thing he learned from his father but he needed to shield Michelle from things. He didn't want her to worry, not about him. He needed to know she was safe, so he was protecting her, even though he knew damn well how much she hated it. He protected her and he always would, at all costs. Like he had done against Saunders, like he'd so often done at CTU, like he'd done while he was in prison and suggested she find a new position, away from L.A. Had he not been pardoned, he likely would have asked her to move on with her life. For her sake. His throat tightened. He wanted to touch her but didn't. _Please forgive me._ he pleaded with her silently.

The red light turned to green and the vehicle rolled away.

Their house in sight, Tony decided it was time to 'wake her'. "Swee-" He cut himself short. Sweetheart - the word was a reflex, it was her name whenever he thought of her. But now he corrected himself. " 'Chelle, we're home."

There was no response from her for three seconds, then, from the corner of his eye, as he turned into their street, he saw her stir, putting on a decent performance of waking up.

He glanced at her, an tentative smile on his lips. "Have a good sleep?"

Michelle put her seat back up and quietly mumbled, "Yeah."

Tony sighed, pulling into their driveway. _She didn't even look at me. _

_What's the surprise, Almeida? You do deserve this._ he reprimanded himself. And yet, as the SUV eased into their driveway and Tony waited for the garage door to slide open, he looked at her pleadingly. His voice was soft and quiet. "Michelle... Don't do this."

"Do what?" She was staring out of the side window on her right.

His hands dropped to the six o'clock position on the steering wheel. _Don't reject me, sweetheart. _"Please, Michelle..." Voice hardly above a whisper, he added, "I need you."

At this, Michelle slowly turned her head towards him and found him looking at her from behind a veil of pain. For once, Tony didn't avert his eyes from her. He held her gaze as if waiting for a verdict with her as his jury. He was ready to scream when she finally addressed him. "Then _talk_ to me."

_Sweetheart, that's the one thing I won't do_. Tony heaved a sigh and looked away, staring out at the parched grass by the side of the driveway. He felt Michelle's persisting stare and eventually turned slightly towards her but couldn't face her. He was staring at his knees. The garage door slid closed again.

Michelle gave him another minute. Then wordlessly, she collected her handbag, opened the door and left, scurrying off towards the house. Moments later she disappeared inside and Tony leaned his forehead onto the steering wheel.

--

A tall black lamp in one corner of the room kept the night out and was all the light Michelle needed while she was sitting by her laptop, behind one of the two oak wood desks in the study, finishing up a report for District. The other desk in the room harbored the desktop computer that was mostly used by Tony for private matters. He'd once sent Michelle a loveletter from it when he had the day off and she was at CTU. She received it in the middle of a meeting with Jack and Chappelle and almost laughed out at the title when the new message window popped up. Jack grinned at it, but Chappelle frowned and was about to make some kind of a bureaucrat-in-charge remark when Jack said Ryan's name in that tone he mastered perfectly and that instantly refocused the meeting on the number of potential terrorist cells in Chechnya and the Ukraine. It seemed many years ago now, but it'd happened just a week before Tony started planning the sting operation with Jack and Gael. Tony sometimes wondered if Michelle still had that e-mail somewhere. Or maybe it was erased, lost, like everything seemed to be these days.

The white wooden shelves along the walls were filled with history. This was where family pictures resided; a photo of Michelle's brother, among others, Tony's family, photo albums. A weathered algebra book still stood there, too. Emilio and Sebastián had used it first, and eventually Tony inherited it from Alicia. The book was enriched with everything from Emilio's secret love messages to a girl named Gloria, logos of Deep Purple and The Doors drawn in thick pencil across some of the pages in Sebastián's handwriting, to which Tony had later added Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, and Alicia's talented cartoon drawings inbetween all that. Though most of Tony's old things never made it to L.A, for some reason, he couldn't bear to throw that book away. Emilio had once joked they'd have to bury him with it. But to Tony, as silly as it seemed, having it there with him was as if the whole family was there as well, especially his sister, whom he still missed every day. So whenever Tony moved house, so did the algebra book.

It was three hours after dinner as Tony quietly stepped inside the study, not knocking first. As he entered, he lingered by the door for a moment while Michelle looked at him and stopped typing. She didn't look annoyed by the intrusion, so Tony wordlessly pulled a chair to the desk where she was and sat down, facing her. Before raising his eyes towards her, he rested his arms on his knees like he'd so often done before and let out a long sigh.

"Michelle..." he began but paused. Then he took a chance. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I acted like an asshole last night. You didn't deserve that."

Now Michelle turned in her office chair to face him.But before she could even say anything, Tony continued.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, I know I did. Believe me, I didn't mean to." He put his head between his hands for a moment, then ran them through his hair, sighing. "I'm just... under so much pressure these days... I don't want to put it on you."

She leaned in closer to him, put her right hand on his thigh, and he looked at her again.

"Tell me."

Tony shook his head. "What I need you to accept," he stated, "is that there are things that I can't tell you about and that you can't help me with. All this, the nightmares, prison, everything that happened since - these are _my _demons, not yours. This is something I have to deal with on my own."

Michelle didn't move but she noticed him wince as he mentioned prison. "Even if it breaks you?"

Tony stared at the floor and didn't actually answer but she thought he'd nodded ever so slightly.

"My God, Tony, when will you finally realize you can't do this alone? Not after everything you've been through."

His only reaction was yet another heavy sigh.

Michelle reached for his hands and held them. _Time to lay the cards out on the table. _"Tony, look at me." He did. She hesitated just a second, but then just said it. "I know what happened at Division, what they did to you. I read the debriefs. I talked to Jack."

Tony's eyes sunk to the floor again. The hairs on his arms stood and sweat formed on his brow. Michelle noticed this, but now there was no turning back. The line had been crossed. "So whatever you're trying to protect me from, I already know. At least as far as Hammond goes. Or Ragen." She hoped he would look at her but he didn't. She squeezed his hands gently and sighed. "I want to be there for you, Tony, but first, you have to let me."

Now Tony briefly grasped her hand but then let go of it and stood, slowly taking a few steps towards the door. He touched his nose for a moment like something annoyed him about it, then scratched his neck with his other hand.

Michelel sat up in the chair, then uttered quietly. "You can't keep running away from this."

At the door, Tony turned back. "I'm not running away. I just need to move."

He made a fist and relaxed his hand, the left, then the right, repeatedly, while pacing the room. He strolled to the door and back, then suddenly asked, "What's happening to Knoll?"

Michelle stood from the chair and half sat on the edge of the desk. "He's still there."

"Figures." Tony mumbled to himself.

"According to the Committee, there was no reason to take steps against him. He only did what Hammond told him to do."

Tony shot a suddenly angry look at her and stopped walking. "Are you defending him?"

"No." Michelle replied calmly. "I'm just telling you what the Committee decided. Knoll was following orders but still tried to stop Hammond. Those are the facts."

"From where I stand, it doesn't look like he tried_ too _hard."

Tony scratched the scar he wore in his neck. Silence took possession of the room._ Maybe I shouldn't have brought this up. He's not ready to deal with it. _Michelle thought. She remembered the marks from the taser on Tony's neck and body, the blood on his wrists from the cuffs, the terror he was in and likely still was. Soon, Tony was on the move again. "What about the others?"

_Stay factual_. "Dr. Burke went to District. Steve quit. He was very sorry about his mistake concerning Valdez. He sent his sincerest apologies."

The look in Tony's eyes was hollow. "Yeah. I guess that makes everything ok again, doesn't it."

Michelle watched him reach the wall at the other end of the room and turn back again. _Bring this to an end_. "The Committee also freed you of all accusations Hammond made against you."

Tony didn't even bother to glance at her but scoffed. "Oh, good. So I'm not a repeat offender. Just a common traitor."

He pushed his hands in his pockets and clenched his sweaty fists. Michelle sighed but he didn't react to it. A few steps later, he stopped, and turned towards her, crossing his hands at his chest. "Did they ask you to take over Hammond's job? They must have."

She was used to answering this question by now. She crossed her arms in response. "Yeah, they did."

"And?"

"And what? I refused."

"Why?"

"I didn't want it."

"Uh-huh..." Tony kept her inquisitive eyes on her, his head slightly tilted to the side. He said nothing for a few seconds. Then the expression on his face hardened. "You refused because of me, right? You used me as an excuse, didn't you? You've done that before."

Michelle held Tony's stare. "I _didn't_ want it."

Tony's eyes suddenly flashed with anger. "Oh, you've wanted it since you took the job at Division in the first place, Michelle! Since I got sent to prison and you got promoted."

Michelle tightened her right hand's grip on her own left upper arm, consciously restraining herself from stepping up to Tony and slapping him just to force him out of whatever dark hole he'd catapulted himself into. Blood rushed to her head and words were suddenly faster than thoughts. "Right, I forgot - I'm just like Nina!" she spat back. That wound was still open, though she'd tried to ignore it.

"Shut up." Tony tried to interrupt her but the waterfall of her words was still flowing.

"I'm here to use you and stab you in the back like she did! _'Hope you did a background check...'_ - Well, did you?!"

"Shut up!" He was almost in her face now but she didn't back off.

"No, not this time! What is it that I should have done when they put you in prison? Quit? Blown up CTU? Would it have made you feel better if I'd gotten myself arrested so I could sit in jail, too? What is it? Why don't you just tell me what you want from me?"

Tony's glare was unsympathetic, though mixed with hurt. He stared her down as defiantly as he could. "I want you to be honest with me."

"Look who's talking." Michelle scoffed. "Who was just giving me a lecture on keeping things in the closet?"

"That is different! Those are _my _worries and _my_ problems I'd like to keep to myself! At least I'm not giving you excuses and lying to you!"

"I'm not lying to you either."

"I'm not so sure."

Michelle held his stare, refusing to be the one to look away. But inside, things looked different. _My God, how could I say that? It's not right._ she berated herself. _He was agonized and tortured when he said it. He might not even remember it. _Neither of them spoke for almost a minute. Then she glanced at the ground, giving in. When she looked back at Tony, there was a triumphant smirk on his face. She closed her eyes momentarily, her fingers on her brow. _What's the point of all this?__All we're doing is hurting each other even more and neither of us really needs that. _

Then she stated, as levelly as she could, despite the turmoil inside her. "You know what, Tony? How about we just pretend this whole weekend never happened? It might be better for both of us."

Tony's glare at her was angry and full of contempt but he agreed. "Fine." and then went for the door without hesitation. Before he could exit, Michelle pulled herself back together for a moment. "Tony."

He turned to her, wordlessly.

"I shouldn't have said that, about Nina. I'm sorry."

His look was pure contempt now. "No, you're not. You meant it."

Two seconds later, Tony was gone.

_Fine, I deserved it. _Michelle thought, sighing. Michelle leaned both hands on the desk, closed her eyes and gave herself time to just breathe.

--

Tony slammed the door shut behind him and marched away from the study. His heartbeat was chasing a fast train and still accelerating. He felt like he was standing in the middle of the Death Valley in full combat gear at high noon. He urgently tore off his sweatshirt and wiped his brow with it, then tossed the garment to the couch. The sweat fought back and protruded from his pores again, covering his arms and back in a tiny film as well. His cheeks were heating up._ I gotta get out of here. _Tony ran his hands through his hair and rushed out of the house and into the night.

Stepping outside to the deck, he took a couple of deep breaths. Though the night air was mercifully cool, he felt physically sick; nauseated, lightheaded, feverish. His knees buckled under him and he slumped down in a lawn chair. It seemed like a thick fog was taking possession of everything around him, wrapping the world in nothingness. He wasn't aware of his surroundings. Darkness seemed to converge on him until all he saw was a narrow, tunnel-like space directly in front of him. Everything else, the rest of the world, seemed vanished.

The argument with Michelle had brought it all back up again. He saw himself on the icy concrete floor of the holding cell, screaming in agony, begging Hammond to stop and then that final hit and the moment it all ceased._ Dead. Michelle knows._ His body began to remember the injuries; where the bullet had caught him was a burning pain again, where the ribs had cracked was a tightness and painful throbbing, he remembered each taser hit as if it had just been shocked moments ago. _Death.__ She knows what they did._

As if blind, he felt the space around the lawn chair for something to hold on to but there was nothing except air. No ground. No wall. No hold. Nothing. Just emptiness. Fear overcame him, but he fought. Fought against his own body to try and let air in, even though it felt like there wasn't enough air to go around. His hearbeat throbbed in his ears, pressure built up in his chest. _I'll suffocate. I can't breathe. I can't breathe._ He gasped for air repeatedly but his ribcage wouldn't move, like a hundred pound rock was sitting on it. He leaned forward in the chair, still fighting._ They're not done with me._

Robin, Nathan and Cory stood above him now. _Get out of here. Quit. _

"Leave me alone!"

_They're coming. _His hands began to tremble and he put them to his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut._Leave me alone. _It only felt worse; constricted him even more. He let go again. _Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._ he ordered himself. As if he were resurfacing from the ocean after a dive, he forced his chest to rise with the last of his strength, eventually causing the constriction to break. Air rushed in but then his stomach contents wanted out. Tony pressed a hand hard against his mouth, swallowing the bile down. _No. Don't. Don't._ A piercing sound like the whistle of his mother's old tea kettle rang in his ears _Dead. She knows. _The repelling taste in his gullet remained. _I must be going crazy. This isn't happening. This isn't real. Help. _

And still he couldn't be sure. He tried to survey his surroundings but there was nothing but terror. _They're coming to get me. Hammond. Robin. Michelle. I can't escape._

He wanted to run away but his legs wouldn't obey. He didn't even know if he could stand. _I have to get away from here_. He finally found a metal frame underneath him and gripped it firmly. He wasn't sure what it was he was holding. His heart beat loudly in his throat, the pressure in his head and eyes was overwhelming. The world was spinning and Tony could hear voices echo from somewhere far away. Whose voices they were, he wasn't sure. _Traitor. Die._

_No, Hammond's dead._

_Is that what she told you? She told you that. No-one saw it. _

He was still shaking. If he'd felt in control of his muscles, he might have tried to sit on his hands to make them stop trembling. But he didn't.

_I have to get away from here. They killed me. She was watching._

The bile in the back of his throat had turned into a plug. A wave of nausea washed over him.

_They're waiting. Robin and the others. They're waiting. They're out to get me again._

Another nausea wave hit him hard. Tony fell onto his knees and hands. Weak and terrorized, he gave up on fighting the queasiness and vomited into the bushes to the side. He was disgusted at himself but there was nothing else he could do.

His stomach emptied, his body mercilessly pulled him back to reality. The panic attack stopped as suddenly as it had come. Tony remained kneeling on the grass already moist with dew and only now felt like his eyes were open. He rubbed them firmly with his fists just to make sure he was awake and okay. No-one was out to get him. At least not in the immediate surroundings. Then he glanced above him. The night sky was clear and - where the light from the city didn't obscure them - stars were visible. As if his ears had just started functioning, Tony gradually began to perceive sounds around him. Cars passed by not too far away, cicadas chirped in the grass, an occasional bullfrog croaked in the distance, a plane flew over the neighborhood. The world seemed intact.

Tony dropped onto the ground. Suddenly, goose bumps were all over his body, he began to shiver with cold. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. _Son of a bitch. What the hell was that? _

The question was rhetorical, really.

_I'm either losing my mind or..._

He closed his eyes, attempted to slow down his breathing.

_What if Hammond isn't really dead? What if she's lying to me? What if... She's turning against me. Maybe I've just been blind._

Tony buried his head in his still shaking hands. _Stop it. Stop it! _

_God... I can't take this any more. _


	20. Better the Devil you know

**A/N: **Today it's short and simple: many thanks for the reviews, keep them coming and I hope you enjoy this chapter :-)

* * *

**_...Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know..._****  
**

**Day 48**

"It's just another Monday." Tony mumbled, standing by the sink in the men's room, letting warm water flow over the soft, odorless foam that was enveloping his hands. "Everybody hates Mondays."

He sighed as he glanced at his watch. Quarter past ten. "Damn." It was a moan more than a word. Boring days seemed to never end. It really was nothing new.

The white foam was long gone but Tony adjusted the temperature of the water until steam started to rise from the sink. There. That felt better. He relaxed. There was calmness in the warmth and the steady flow of the water from the faucet and he relished in it for a moment. Throughout the morning, he'd been distracted, huffy, impatient. He couldn't stop thinking about the weekend, about all the things that had gone wrong. Even though he and Michelle had "agreed" to let it be forgotten, both of them knew they wouldn't. They couldn't.

Tony was sure that it was easier for Michelle to keep her mind off private problems because she had a real job. She had assignments she needed to use her head on. He didn't. Not anymore. The things he was doing at the office, he could do in his sleep. They could have given the job to a guy in a coma and no-one would have noticed. "Sons of bitches." Tony cursed softly. _And for what? What the hell am I doing this for? _

_Simply because you won't give in to them, that's why. _

_Right. As if they cared._

He hated the place. He actually loathed getting up in the morning, dragging himself to the office and forcing himself to face the morons there day after day. Somehow, he had a feeling he wouldn't do it for long. He briefly glanced around the white tiled restroom, the stalls, the urinals, all unoccupied. He was still alone. But lately, there's always been that odd feeling, the feeling of being watched. And not just by Robin and his disciples; Tony found his vigilance level increased at most times of the day. Many times in the past weeks, he'd told himself he was being paranoid. He'd ordered himself to stop, and yet couldn't shake the feeling off. Just like now. He surveyed the restroom again.

Tony stopped the water and grabbed a paper towel when he heard the door swing open. He stood still and used the long mirror above the sinks to glance behind him and to the side. He ignored his own spent and unshaven reflection and saw Cory enter. There was a split second of hesitation in Cory's eyes, then the programmer walked in and headed towards the urinals. Tony decided to ignore the newcomer, saying nothing, though his eyes stayed pinned on the mirror.

When Cory was behind Tony, he whispered "Hey. Convict."

Tony abruptly turned. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me." Cory replied with a smug look on his face. "But maybe you prefer _traitor_."

"You son of a bitch." Tony muttered under his breath and lunged at Cory, grabbing him by the neck. Cory made a move to grasp Tony's arm but Tony threw him hard against the tile wall. Then he pressed his right arm against Cory's throat, pinning him there. Cory began to choke since Tony was almost strangling him.

He knit his eyebrows out of sheer anger and his eyes narrowed, hiding the white around his deep brown pupils except in the mere corners of his eyes. The dark rings around his eyes had become a permanent part of his face by now; people on the street would usually turn away intimidated if he gave them a hard look. He hoped the overall impression would do the same to Cory, whose eyes had in fact widened, though Tony couldn't really read fear in them; clearly, Cory felt safe enough inside the company, he didn't think himself vulnerable. The geek then grabbed Tony's right forearm with both his hands in an effort to free himself, but the twenty-something stood no chance against the disciplined and hardened Marine that Tony was.

"Let... go... " Cory finally croaked through the choking but Tony had no intention of doing that. Instead, Tony pushed himself closer until his nose was about two inches away from Cory's pimples, and Cory's Marlboro-laden breath almost made him sick.

"Now listen good, you impudent little bastard." Tony whispered quietly. "If you know that much about my history, you probably also know what I used to do…" The grip of Cory's hands on Tony's arm grew stronger. Tony ignored it. "And in that job, I learned a lot of ways how to inflict pain. Bring this up again and you'll find out what I mean."

Tony's glare was full of rage but his voice, at the same time, unnervingly calm and calculated. He knew that Cory had understood he wasn't kidding as the youngster's face began to turn almost as red as his hair was and his devilishly green eyes widened to the point where his eyelids were no longer showing; perspiration was shining on his forehead. While trying to draw a breath, Cory was now digging his fingernails into Tony's arm; had they been longer, Tony's skin might have started to bleed. Tony didn't care. He could have strangled him to death if he'd wanted to, but he didn't. The wanna-be opponent just wasn't worth it. Finally, Tony slammed him against the wall again and then let go of him.

Cory gasped for air and began to cough.

Tony shook his head and gave Cory one final look before turning away. He hoped to have taught Cory a lesson, but his muscles were still tense and he listened intently to any sounds, expecting an assault from behind. Except for coughing and panting, nothing came.

He was about to head to the door when Cory uttered, "I wonder what your wife did to get you pardoned..."

Out of nowhere, Tony spun back at Cory, landing a vicious punch in Cory's stomach, again sending him flying into the wall. The youngster bounced back, lashing out at Tony. Instinctively, Tony grabbed Cory's right wrist. Cory's left fist came next which Tony blocked with his right forearm, then, using the moment of force, thrust his arm forward, landing his elbow on Cory's nose. There would have been more effective moves, but the ultimate injury wasn't the point here. At least not yet. Nevertheless, a bone in Cory's face cracked and Cory cried out, then put his hands over his nose. Grabbing Cory by his red hair with his left hand, Tony kneed him in the stomach, making him double over. Another punch in the same area­, then Tony let go of him, and with a final blow to the redhead's upper back sent him to the floor.

_You should have read up more about me before attacking me. _Then he ordered, "Keep my wife out of this."

Lying on the dark grey tiles, Cory pulled his knees up, holding his stomach, trying to regain his breath. "You... My nose..." he whined.

Tony watched him just for a couple of seconds. He felt no sympathy. _You asked for it, you bastard. Find someone your size next time. _

Tony headed for the door, shaking his open right hand to let it relax. It's been a while since he last dealt with a guy this way. He had way too few chances to practice Krav Maga these days. Not that he'd really needed elaborate techniques for a greenhorn like Cory. When the door closed behind him, he glanced around. No-one was immediately on their way to the restroom. _Good_. Though what just happened would certainly become known before long. Now Tony allowed himself to breathe in and out deeply and even shut his eyes for a moment. _Bastards. Sons of bitches. _His blood was boiling in his veins. This _is simple hatred, nothing else_. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to start moving towards his desk. He didn't want to be close to the restroom when they found Cory. _I was right. This is their sense of justice. That's what you get for being a traitor. I'll never escape the shadow of this conviction. Never_.

He sat down in his chair and glanced towards Esther's unoccupied desk. He'd had his doubts when Esther left without telling him anything, but now he was certain that her sudden vacation was orchestrated by Robin and his gang. They had to make sure he was alone and vulnerable.

Their side of the plan was working.

--

"Michelle. Want to go out for a drink tonight?" Buchanan asked Michelle when their meeting in his office that afternoon was over.

Michelle stopped gathering her notes and files for a moment and glanced at him. "No, I don't think I can." she then replied with a small smile.

"Please. I need to talk to you but I don't want to do it here."

"Okay." Michelle nodded.

An hour later, here they were, at a tiny table in a small bar one block away from Division. A half-empty glass of Diet Coke stood on the table, along with a sweating cold bottle of Bud. The place was scarcely populated in the evening of a workday, and was perfectly suited for a semi-confidential conversation. Two blondes in their mid-thirties sat by the counter, their legs crossed, laughing and sipping Cosmopolitans. They wore suits straight out of Vogue and removing all the pins in their hair probably cost them half an hour of sleep each night. A black-clad salesman almost twice their age occupied a booth, a glass of red wine his company while he was reading through a multitude of papers and memos on the table, seemingly all at the same time.

Bill took a gulp of Bud from his glass, emptying it, then poured the remainder of the beer into it. Michelle was quiet - too quiet - and just scratched the back of her hand. Bill smiled at her and she smiled back, then looked away. Bill took his eye glasses that stood on the table and traced the outline of the black frame with his thumbs, then folded them and put them in the breast pocket of his shirt. Then he fixed his gaze on Michelle. She had been tense ever since he first arrived at CTU and little by little, Bill had grown unsure of her reasons. He was determined to find out, though, despite dancing around the subject for the past twenty minutes.

"Michelle..." Bill whispered and Michelle raised her head to find his eyes. "We've known each other for a while now..." From a purely professional perspective, Michelle was always on top of things. Composed and focused, she never missed a beat. But in the past weeks, things had changed. He paused another moment to take Michelle's hand. She didn't pull it back.

"You haven't been yourself lately... You're distracted, mistakes are happening. What's wrong?"

Michelle heaved a sigh before beginning to stare at their hands. "I can't really talk about it."

"Yes, you can." Bill leaned towards her, gently caressing the back of her cold fingers with his thumb. "You can. We've talked before, remember?"

He knew she did remember. Granted, that was somewhat different. With her husband in prison, Bauer in D.C, and no-one familiar in Seattle. She had no-one to turn to, so she turned to Bill.

They were in L.A. now, back on her home turf, but that didn't mean she couldn't turn to him again now.

"Is it me?" Bill asked when she didn't reply and offered, "Should I go back to Seattle? I will if you tell me to."

"No, no." Michelle shook her head. "It's not you. It's just..." She looked at him. "Just stuff between Tony and me."

Now it was Bill who sighed. _I should have known. That cheating bastard. Did she find out? She might have._ He wanted to be there for Michelle if she needed him. The question was, did she? _I have to find out what she knows before I say anything. Maybe this is something else._ "Do you want to talk about it?"

Michelle took her glass in both hands, beginning to turn it on its foot. After a while, she softly replied, "I'm not even sure what to say. Or what to think, for that matter."

Bill nodded, sensing hurt in her voice. "Try."

Bill could have recited the alphabet ten times over by the time Michelle stopped absently staring at his blue shirt and articulated the first words. "He's in a lot of pain. That much I do know... He's not sleeping. He thinks I don't notice when he tries to stay awake at night, but I do. I mostly pretend to sleep, but when I'm sleeping, I keep waking up because I'm afraid to leave Tony alone with his nightmares."

"He won't tell me what they are, but I suppose it's obvious...What Hammond did to him, the time in prison, the long recovery and god knows what else... It must have been emotionally draining, exhausting, I get that... I think I get that," she corrected herself, "though I'll never know just how much he's been through..."

Michelle let go off the glass and folded her hands. Bill decided not to break the silence and gave her time. About a minute later, she continued quietly. "I don't know what happened to him in prison, I'll never know. He'll never tell me, I realize that now. No matter how often I ask him to let me in, to talk to me. He won't."

"You mean you don't talk?".

Michelle let out a small laugh. "Oh we _do _talk. We probably entertain the neighbors beautifully."

"Yeah." Bill uttered, more to himself than to her. And again he thought of Seattle. The truth was, the situation can't really have been all that different right now from what it was then. Tony was probably there but yet not there at the same time. Jack was still in D.C, and knowing Michelle, Bill guessed she hadn't confided in anyone. He knew what Michelle was going through from personal experience that he wasn't too proud of.

Hesitatingly, Bill reached for both her hands and put his warm palms around them.

"This weekend..." Michelle whispered, "was hell and I... I said something I shouldn't have said."

"Michelle, no."

"I hurt him. He didn't deserve this -"

"Don't -"

"...not from me."

"Don't blame yourself."

"He's already down, Bill. He's down and I kicked him."

"Hey!" his firm voice refocused her attention and Bill squeezed her hands. There was a sadness in her voice that Bill hadn't noticed before, not even in Seattle. She had this terrible tendency to beat herself up over things in her private life. Not over her decisions at work, just the private ones. As she met his gaze, the look on her face was that of a four year old girl who got lost in the mall. "You've done nothing wrong. Don't let him put the blame on you."

"He's not." she protested quietly.

"Listen to me. Whatever's happening to Tony - you are _not_ the reason for it. Don't let him tell you that you are."

"He's just hurt and suffering. I get the feeling it has to do with work, too. He's probably just stressed out."

"Maybe." _It still doesn't justify his taking it out on her. Which is probably what he's doing._ And he also realized another thing that made a fist clench around his heart: Michelle wasn't suffering any less than Tony, though she was too proud to admit it, even to a friend._ I just hope for her sake that he's worth it. _

The look in her eyes was distant. At first, Bill wasn't even sure if she'd heard him ask, "Can I help?"

But as Michelle gave a forced laugh he knew she had. "Well, I don't think that you talking to Tony would be a very good idea."

Now a tiny smile touched Bill's lips. "No, I guess not."

"But maybe we should re-introduce these after work drinks. That would help."

"You got it." he agreed without hesitation.

As if she only now became aware of his touch, Michelle freed her hands slowly, brushed a curl from her face, then looked at her watch. "I think I should go."

"All right." Bill nodded, and dug out his wallet to put a few bills on the table.

Michelle finished her Diet Coke and while she stood to leave, said, "You know, I just wish he would let me in. But I can't force him. He has to want it and he doesn't."

Bill held her coat for her to slip into; just for a moment, he squeezed her shoulders gently, as if to give her strength. "Stop trying to force him. It won't work." he said softly. "I never confided in Anne either. It was wrong. It took the divorce to make me see my mistakes. But it was too late for us to start over."

Michelle didn't reply.

"Let's go." Bill took her in his arms for a moment, then let go again and they left the bar.

--

"Can't I even ask you a simple question?" Tony's voice roared through the Almeida house just two minutes ago.

"No, you're not _asking_, Tony. You're grumbling, yelling, demanding. It's all you've been doing lately!"

Okay, he may have have been a little confrontational but for God's sake, Michelle had attacked him first! So he attacked back. "Well, if you had been home instead of spending fourteen hours at Division every day, I wouldn't have to ask you, now, would I!" Yeah, he was yelling by now. And that's when he saw all softness disappear from her maroon eyes.

"Oh, so now you're gonna chew me out for doing my job?!" she shouted back but he countered icily, with almost no emotion in his voice:

"I'm not chewing you out, I'm just stating a fact."

_All I wanted from her was to tell me where the hell she's been until eleven. But I'm not even worthy of an answer any more. _Tony grinned sarcastically to himself. It was dark in the house since Michelle had stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her.

It's not that he really cared where she'd been. He just had the right to know. Obviously, she didn't share that view. _If she's gonna play power games, so be it._ Tony decided now that he was sitting alone on the couch, his legs stretched out on it, the blanket carelessly thrown at his feet. GolTV was on, though Tony felt like he'd seen enough Mexican soccer to last for a lifetime; but the Spanish commentary was just the right background noise that he didn't need to concentrate on.

He sat motionless, listening for sounds from upstairs for a moment but heard none. He guessed Michelle had gone to bed; not that she'd be sleeping. He knew she wouldn't. But then again, why the hell should he care? It's not like she respected him, it's not like _she_ cared. So why should he play the fool? Why, if she didn't think he was worthy of her?

Even through his anger, not every brain cell in his head agreed with these thoughts, but Tony ignored those little voices. He could almost feel himself tremble inside and closed his fingers tightly around the TV remote control. _As if the likes of Cory weren't enough_...

Tony's right hand began to itch. He could still hear Cory's nose crack under his elbow. _The little bastard. But I expected that of him. But not of Michelle. Not of her. _He would break down the bedroom door and force her to tell him what the hell was going on that she's been giving him such a hard time lately, except he wanted her to leave him alone even more than that.

His back protested against more sitting and the TV had begun to annoy him. Frustrated, Tony switched it off and grabbed a white cushion from the chair next to the couch and pushed it under his head as he lowered himself onto the couch, which was comfortable enough for sitting, but too short to sleep on. That was fine, he wasn't planning on sleeping; he had no use for the nightmares. All these nights, he'd fought to stay awake and every morning it seemed there was no winner. He was fighting on two fronts. If he fended off the nighmares, his thoughts got to him. And they tortured him just as bad. Governed by guilt, above all. And fear.

There were two groups of faces in Tony's mind: faces that'd failed him and faces he'd failed. Jack, whose face had joined the dozen or so others not too long ago, belonged in the latter. _Jack saved your ass, Almeida. You wouldn't have lasted too long on the Inside. Sure, you would have fought but someone would have gotten to you eventually - long before those twenty years were through. Then Jack got rid of _ _Hammond__ for you. And what did you do when Morgan took Jack? You couldn't help him. You let Morgan torture and almost kill him. You didn't save him._

Tony had almost grown tired of this discussion in his head. He'd thought this over a thousand times already and yet it kept coming back. CTU lost Jack. They hadn't been prepared for the oldest trick in the book. _Chloe might have screwed up, but you were in charge, Almeida. You were running tactical. You should have done something. You know Jack would have done it for you._

Tony kept telling himself it was Jack's call. Jack made it clear that mission priority was Palmer. CTU was not to interfere if the exchange went as planned. And still, Tony knew he would have owed it to Jack to at least have tried. _You could have set up an ambush up the road, sent out a chopper to track them. Screw protocol, that's what Jack would have done. You could have. But you didn't. If Jack had died... _

Tony turned onto his stomach, buried his head into the cushion. The anger was still there. As was the guilt. And the pain. _You know what, Almeida? They were right to put you in the hole. You really are a traitor. _

_That doesn't give Robin the right to do what he's doing. Goddamned mob._

_They're right. You're a convict and a traitor. Even _ _Hammond__ was right. _

_He was not. You were innocent._

_I was never innocent._

"Oh for God's sake." Tony cursed under his breath and tossed the blanket to the floor. He sat up again, burying his head in his hands. "Stop this", he sighed and sat there for a minute, pressing his fingers to his eyelids. _I have to make this stop. I need something_.

He got up and took the five steps to the alcohol cabinet in a hurry. He opened it. The bottles hadn't been touched ever since he promised Michelle to quit drinking. The still unopened Johnny Walker Black Label was a gift from someone, Tony couldn't remember whom, and he'd bought the Vat 69 himself. He wanted a taste of that, but it, too, had never been touched so Michelle would know. The other bottles were uninteresting for his purposes. Finally, Tony fixed his gaze upon the partly empty Ballantine's and Absolut but hesitated to stretch out his hand towards them. The twelve clean glasses in the cabinet were arranged in such perfect symmetry that the order almost seemed ironical. But if that's what would defeat the turmoil inside him... He needed some peace - it's been longer than he could remember.

Tony grabbed the Ballantine's. _I'll just have one shot. Just one. To calm down. _he convinced himself and took one tall glass from the cabinet. Then he filled it almost to the brim on his way to the fridge. He pressed the ice machine on, yet nothing came out.

"Son of a bitch." _Is it clogged? _

Tony opened the small freezer door to access the ice box. It seemed fine, so they were just out of ice at the moment. "Damn." he sighed, retraced his steps back to the couch and sat down with the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid slightly swirl around in it.

Again, he hesitated, staring at his hands. _Do I really want to do this? _

_Want has nothing to do with it, you need to unwind. _

_I promised Michelle I wouldn't… _

_It's none of her business. Besides, it's just one drink._

Too easily, Tony gave in, losing the battle against his conscience and sighed, then took a mouthful from the glass and grimaced as the whisky burned in his throat. Instantly, he felt the alcohol go to his head, warming him up. The taste brought back memories; memories of how easy it had been to just drift away and drown everything in alcohol after prison.

Nothing had been easy since he quit. Being sober forced him to face things; things that he just didn't want to deal with, or didn't know how. The whisky seemed like an old friend right now, a friend he'd lost a while ago, but who made him feel better when they encountered.

He took another gulp from the glass and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes. It was as if he were consciously following the ascent of a soothing, protective veil to his head. His breaths became deeper, slower. He was finally relaxing. _Is this really what it takes? _he thought, but the question was purely rhetorical. No need to lie to himself. Alcohol kept his demons at bay. Maybe he'd even be able to sleep tonight. And stay dreamless. Maybe after a second drink.

He heard a sound from upstairs, like Michelle was walking around. He didn't bother to move but his thoughts did. _I destroy my life to save hers and this is what I get in return?_

_As if she could ever know what you've been through. _

_Maybe _ _Hammond__ was right after all. Maybe she really doesn't care. _

Tony let out a self-deprecating laugh as a nightmare came back to him, one that had been haunting him. Michelle left him to be tortured. She was working with Hammond. These dreams shook Tony to the core, horrified him. He'd only once told her about his nightmares, that very first time. They both wound up in tears and he believed her then that she was truly sorry. But now, that dream seemed like a warning. _Who knew, the blood-sucking son of a bitch saw things right when I didn't_.

Tony opened his eyes, lowering his arms from the back of the couch.

"To Hammond. Wherever in Hell you are." he muttered to himself as he lifted the drink into the air for a moment and forced a grin onto his face to cover up his pain-filled expression. Then he brought the glass to his lips again, gulping down its remaining contents in one go.


	21. Uphill Battle

Well, it's time for another chapter. Hope you guys are having a good summer but still have time to read and review :-). My life is getting busier by the day. I hope to be able to keep up the updates, at least at the rate they're coming now, but if it takes a little longer, please do understand. It's just the life of a PhD student.

Anyway, here's chapter 21. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone who's still here & reading :). You are my reason for writing.

* * *

**Day 50**

_Twisting and turning,  
The night keeps me yearning  
I'm burning alive_

Sometimes it wasn't easy to fall asleep alone; but sometimes it was just as hard to fall asleep together. Tony and Michelle were first-hand witnesses to that fact.

"I'm turning in." she had told him around midnight that night while he was channel-surfing in the living room.

"Yeah." he'd replied without really caring too much or looking up from the TV.

Michelle went upstairs and five minutes later she was lying in their bed. Exhausted from yet another long day at the office that ended with a pointless argument at home, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

When all sounds from the bedroom upstairs had seized, Tony waited another five minutes, then switched off the TV and, with a sigh, stood from the couch.

He fetched the vodka bottle from the cabinet and took it to the kitchen where he poured himself a shot in a water glass. "Keep me dreamless. And thoughtless." he told the glass and downed the drink. Then he rinsed the glass well and put it in the dishwasher. The bottle went back to where it belonged and Tony to the downstairs bathroom. He came out a little while later, his face still humid from the cold water he'd splashed on his face to help him keep awake, like he usually did these days. Of course, he'd pretend to sleep, so Michelle wouldn't bug him; he'd count her breaths, the passing cars outside, whatever it took. Sleeping just wasn't much fun these days.

Slowly, he dragged himself up the stairs; he was in no rush to lie down. Before opening the bedroom door, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and unbuttoned his denims. Inside the bedroom, he undressed, tossing the clothes to a chair.

Dressed only in a pair of boxers, his muscular body and proudly worn sixpack faintly illuminated by the shimmering light that seeped in through the blinds, strong arms bent so that his hands rested on his hips, Tony stood by Michelle's side of the bed for a few moments, making sure she was asleep, before he cautiously climbed into the bed and turned his telltale breath away from her. He lay on his side and blankly stared at the seconds ticking away on the alarm clock on his nightstand, but not even half a minute later, Michelle turned and he felt her cuddle against him, her arm finding its way to his chest. Tony didn't move though he would have wanted to: her touch felt intruding rather than soothing, but he didn't want to risk waking her up.

He sighed to himself. _When did things become this difficult?_ Earlier that night, she'd tried to question him about things he wasn't willing to disclose, but he was getting used to it by now. He just told her to get the hell off his back. And she did, surprisingly quickly. Thankfully, it seemed to become easier by the day to get Michelle to back off. And when she eventually did, he made sure to keep his distance. Just like he had done tonight.

Tony would never know how or when he'd given in to his own exhaustion, but at some point that night, he was sleeping.

--

As Tony's nightmares became more frequent, Michelle's sleep became lighter. And now, her husband was bathed in sweat again, shifting restlessly on the bed and mumbling to himself. The mattress vibrated from the movement of his arms and legs. The vibrations literally shook Michelle from her sleep. It took her a little while to realize she was awake, and then another moment to understand Tony was dreaming again. She couldn't help a little annoyance and discomfort surface for a second, but then pushed them aside. The twitching of Tony's body was intensifying and she resolved,_ I have to wake him up_.

She sat up slightly in the bed and switched on the nightstand lamp.

"Tony." she called, but he didn't react. "Wake up, honey, it's over." she said soothingly, knowing it was the only way to calm his troubled mind. "Wake up."

Then she touched his left shoulder gently with her right hand. "It's ok, Tony, wake up."

Tony surely hadn't heard her, much less realized who was talking to him, because he, without hesitation, reflexively grabbed her wrist in a firm grip, causing her to gasp in surprise. She tried to free her arm but his grip on her remained firm, as if he was trying to fend off death itself.

"Get off of me, you bastard." he muttered.

Michelle's wrist pulsated hard under Tony's fingers, or maybe it was his pulse superimposing itself on her own. But her arm was beginning to hurt and he wouldn't let go. She pushed the momentary alarm to the back of her mind and calmly tried to pry open his fist with her left hand. But all it did was make him tighten his grip around her more. Eventually, she gave up trying, and again, urged him to wake up, this time in a slightly desperate voice. Then she glanced helplessly at the open window for a second, keeping quiet just that long.

And at that moment, Tony grabbed both her hands. "Back off!" he muttered and forcefully pushed them and Michelle away.

Michelle's back hit the head of the bed and her left arm the edge of the nightstand. _Ouch_. Ignoring the acute pain from the hit, she didn't cry out but just closed her eyes and then rubbed her now free but achy wrists for a moment. At least he'd let go of her. She looked at her arm; the red prints from Tony's fingers were disappearing but there would be a bruise on her arm. _He didn't do it on purpose_, she reminded herself. She was looking at Tony again; he was still dreaming.

_Wake him up_.

_How?_

His legs were twitching. _Talk to him. Keep talking_. _And get out of the way_.

She rolled off the bed, went to the door, found the light switch and turned the lights on. She called Tony's name again. He didn't react. She couldn't stand to watch him suffer like this, she would have shaken him awake but something was holding her back, by the door, away from the bed. With a resignating sigh, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she simply didn't dare move.

_Great, so what am I going to do now? _

_Just wake him up. _

_Yeah. Easy. And avoid a blow in the process. _

She closed her eyes for a second, as if plucking up courage, then opened them again. She took one long breath and two steps towards the bed. "Tony. Tony, sweetheart, it's over. It's over, wake up. It's just a dream, honey. None of it is real. It's okay."

Her voice was soothing and now she thought that Tony was responding to her voice because his movements seemed to become less violent.

_Good. Come on._

"You're dreaming. Wake up." she cooed. "Wake up, honey."

The room was completely silent and quiet for a moment as Michelle waited for him to open his eyes. She then came another step closer to the bed. _Come on_.

Suddenly, Tony lashed out to his right, toward the sound her movement had caused, forcefully hitting the nightstand and sending the digital alarm clock flying to the floor. Though Michelle reflexively jumped out of the way, the clock landed at her feet.

"Oh, son of a bitch." Tony swore, opening his eyes, blinking against the light. He sat up, cradling the obviously hurting hand on his chest, rubbing it and moving each finger.

At that, Michelle let out a long breath and brought a smile on her weary face. A minute later, still somewhat squinting against the light, Tony raised his head towards her, a questioning look on his face.

"'Chelle, what are you do-" he started but cut himself short. Hanging his head, he let out a sigh and his shoulders sagged.

Then Michelle took those final steps to the bed, sat on it and gently led a hand up Tony's side. He winced at her touch but she slid her arm around him anyway; it traveled up his back and came to rest on his shoulder blade. Then Tony closed his eyes. Michelle managed to smile with relief and whispered, kissing his shoulder. "Welcome back."

Under her hand, where it was touching Tony's back, Michelle felt goose bumps form on Tony's skin. Soon, he recoiled away and stared at the floor. She watched him grow distant and knew he was going back inside his head, to whatever he still remembered of his dream. Subconsciously, she rubbed her wrist. Would he realize he'd grabbed her? As if he'd read her thoughts, Tony turned his head to face her and found her eyes with a dread-filled look. He didn't touch her, but he swallowed hard, glanced away, and then his eyes fixed on hers and stayed there.

"Sweetheart," he almost choked at the word and had to swallow hard. "Did I…." .He paused again. "Did I hurt you?"

Michelle glanced down to her left, avoiding Tony's stare. Was it okay to lie under the circumstances? She hated lying to him but made a quick decision. She sighed, then looked at his face again. Actually, her eyes stopped rising when they reached his mouth; staring at his lips, she replied quietly, "No."

Tony seemed to hold his breath. He didn't move a muscle or stop looking at her. That's when she knew he hadn't bought it. He knew she'd lied. But she'd only done it to take a bit of his guilt away; she hoped he realized that, too.

He never commented, though; he just gave a slight nod and a quiet, "All right."

Then he turned to sit on the edge of the bed, lowered his bare feet onto the thick carpet, rested his hands against the edge of the mattress and stared at his knees.

Michelle sighed and put a hand on his shoulder again._ I'm sorry, honey_.

Tony didn't cringe at her touch this time, but turned his head only enough to look at her from the mere corner of his eye. And in that moment, she saw he'd made a decision. And just a second later, he, quite abruptly, stood up. Rubbing his face with his right palm and then placing both his hands on his hips, he uttered,

"Look, uhm.." Now he was staring at the floor, "I think it's better for both of us if I sleep downstairs from now on."

At first, Michelle didn't reply. She couldn't even formulate a response in her mind. Tony gazed at her with determination written all over his face. There was no anger in his eyes, but resolve and sadness were evident. He stood there as if waiting for her to react, and it took her close to thirty seconds to protest.

"What? No." she uttered, standing up from the bed and stepping up to Tony. Sliding her hands up his flanks and to his shoulders, she added, "Stay here. You don't have to do this."

_Damn it, Tony, we're married. Let me help you._

Tony pressed his lips together, the little flesh there was on his chin grew round and Michelle understood. It was his alternative to crying. The only time he did this was when he was hurting but wasn't willing to admit it. It looked like he took a couple of seconds to process her desperate plea, though she couldn't be sure, but then his brow furrowed and his right thumb gently caressed her left cheek before he simply nodded,

"Yes, I do. It's better for both of us."

He took Michelle's hands into his own and moved them off his shoulders, squeezing them ever so slightly. Letting go of them, he gave Michelle one last long look. Finally, with a sigh, he snatched his clothes from the chair he'd thrown them onto, opened the bedroom door and went downstairs. He paused by the door of the guest room, but then as if repulsed by it, got dressed and headed out into the hallway. He slipped his feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbed his house keys and left the house, letting the front door fall shut behind him.

--

Michelle watched Tony's figure disappear behind the bedroom door, feeling helpless and resigned. She wanted to call him back, but refrained. _Why is he doing this? _the thought rang out in her mind. But he was already gone before she could ask.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs slowly faded away. Arguing would have been useless. Once his mind was made up, some higher power alone could make him turn back, and Michelle learned long ago she didn't have any godlike powers, not over Tony. So, she dropped back onto the bed and sighed, burying her head in her hands.

_Is it because I lied?_

_Don't be such a child, Michelle. He knows you lied to protect him._

_Lying to someone else, fine. But it doesn't justify blatantly lying to his face, does it._

_Oh but you've done it before._

_Only at work. And only if I had to._

She moved over to Tony's side of the king-sized bed, set his pillow against the bed's wooden head and leaned on it, then pulled her knees up to bury them under the cover a moment later. The sheets felt odd. Without consciously realizing it, she shifted so that her feet found the last oasis of warmth that Tony's body had left underneath the cover, just as she heard Tony slam the front door shut.

_He's running away again._

_Can you blame him?_

_Am I driving him away?_

She clutched the cover with both hands and pulled it closer. It was as if the slightly rough tip of his thumb was still on her smooth cheek, as if his eyes were still projecting guilt and pain onto her face, as if his warm breath was still tickling her nose. But he wasn't there.

_He saw he'd scared me. He thinks he's a danger. He's moving downstairs to protect me. _

_Or the nightmare could have been just the right excuse at the right time. _

At first, she was about to quickly ban that last thought. It was hard to imagine he would consciously look for reasons to stay away from her. Yet it was indeed not the most far-fetched explanation. He had been shutting her out for weeks, refusing to talk. Sleeping in separate beds would make it easier for him to detach himself from her.

Remembering numerous other times when Tony had fled the scene after an unwelcome discussion, Michelle couldn't help but wonder,

_Where is he going now?_

Directly after prison, the answer would have been wherever he could find any booze at a given time. Between Tony's latest stay in a hospital and now, Michelle didn't know.

_Is he drinking again? He promised me he wouldn't... But it's possible... He's hidden things from me before._

Michelle took a deep breath and turned to lie on her back, her body stretching from one side of the bed to the other. She silently stared at the ceiling above her; stripes of light coming through the blinds danced on the almost black background of the painted concrete.

_Does he even still love me? How much does he care?..._

If she hadn't been feeling so helpless, she might not have continued thinking about this. But Tony's behavior wasn't exactly proving her wrong and she couldn't be blind to that fact.

It was difficult to believe that the Tony that had stormed out of the house now was the same man who'd filled her apartment with flowers when he proposed to her, who'd insisted on driving to her place at 3 a.m. on a Sunday night just because she'd forgotten to bring her favorite lipstick with her to his apartment and he didn't want her to resort to a different one for the day, that he was the man who'd always defended her, from the day they first met. The day Tony drugged Chappelle and Michelle was outside CTU, helping Jack retrieve crucial evidence, Tony spoke about taking all the blame and consequences of what they did as if it were the most natural thing to do. He would face treason if necessary but keep her out of it. Clearly, he'd been thinking about it and had made up his mind but she told him, "I won't let you lie for me." making it clear that whatever happened, they were in it together.

Still, protecting her was Tony's primal instinct, the instinct that eventually got him sent to prison and opened the gate to the downhill road on which they seemed to be traveling right now. The past was in the past; the present was hazy. Though she wanted to believe that Tony's love for her couldn't have died, that he still had love for her in his heart, Michelle couldn't ignore how much has changed, how much Tony had changed. Despite her own undying love for him, she eventually admitted to herself that the Tony that had chosen to move downstairs was not the Tony she'd married: he was a different man now. A man whose world was shrinking too much and too fast to allow another person in.

--

An hour later, the front door opened and closed again and Michelle, who had somehow drifted into a light doze, woke up at the sound.

_He's back_.

She slowly got up from the bed. Outside the bedroom, she stood at the top of the staircase and watched Tony throw the sneakers off his feet. He glanced at her but almost instantly looked away guiltily. While he was fumbling with his keys and threw them on the sideboard, Michelle walked down the stairs and joined him there.

Somewhat cautiously, she put a hand on Tony's back, whispering, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." Tony replied, taking two steps into the living room.

_Yeah, right_, Michelle thought, but knew she would get no other answer out of him. She followed him and Tony stopped, turning to her with a theatrically loud sigh and a frustrated look on his face.

"I was starting to get worried..." she tried, her voice calm. "Where have you been?"

"Out."

Michelle approached him at an arm's length and gently squeezed his shoulders, as if about to massage them to help him relax. "Out, where?" she asked softly, despite knowing he wouldn't tell her, but as she stood there with him, closer than he'd allowed her to be lately, she sharpened her sense of smell.

Tony stepped away. "Just out, all right? Please, just leave it be."

His breath was clean. _At least he wasn't drinking_. "All right." she agreed.

He nodded briefly and then headed towards the guest bedroom to his right. "Thank you." he mumbled on the way.

"Tony."

At the door, he turned around.

"I know you won't talk to me about what's eating you up. But maybe you should talk to _someone_."

Tony scoffed. "What, you're gonna send me to the shrink now? Is that what you want?" His tone was somewhat defensive but the sharpness and energy he usually added to it were missing. He almost sounded resigned.

Michelle folded her arms at her chest. "I didn't say that. Just find someone to talk to. Why are you so afraid to get help?"

Tony didn't reply. Instead, he glared at her for a few more seconds, then sighed, stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him

**Day 53**

_Across the border they turn water into wine  
Some say it's the devil's blood they're squeezing from the vine  
Some say it's a savior in these desperate times  
For me it helps me to forget that we're just born to die. _

Michael Cook, the owner and CEO of Cook IT Solutions, was sitting in his glass-enclosed office above the main floor of his company. His clean-shaven brown face contrasted against the pale yellow shirt and purple tie he wore, and he was looking at Tony, who was sitting opposite Michael, clad in a black shirt and jeans. The expression on Michael's face was serious, though not angry, but his voice was demanding answers.

"Tony, we almost lost a year's worth of data. How could this happen?"

Tony's hands rested calmly in his lap, though he would have liked to grab the stapler or the hole puncher from Michael's desk and throw it down onto the main floor, straight through the glass, preferably aiming it at Robin's head. Still, looking Michael in the eye, he lied, "I don't know, Mr. Cook. Most likely a glitch in the software."

His boss leaned forward in the chair. "The software that you tested last week, right?"

"Yes, sir." _Except it wasn't there when I was testing it._

Michael Cook took a pencil in his right hand and tapped its end on the index finger of his left hand. "So, what happened between then and now?"

Tony shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Mr. Cook. Maybe the code got altered somehow during implementation. I'll look into it."

"Do that." Michael nodded. "But you do realize that if Nathan Connor hadn't made redundant backups on the external server, this would have been disastrous, right?"

Tony didn't reply but pressed his toes firmly against the soles of his shoes and thus against the floor until they almost hurt. The neutral expression on his face, however, remained unchanged. _Nathan, that bastard. They intentionally screwed up the code to set me up and make me take the fall._

Michael Cook set the pencil aside and took a long breath, leaning forward in the chair and towards Tony. "Tony, can I speak frankly to you?"

"Please do, Sir."

"Tony... I am not a bastard. I don't fire people for making one mistake. And I believe in second chances." He paused. "I gave you this job because I believed that you would be an asset to us. I still believe that. Now, we didn't lose any data and I know you will find the glitch, whatever it is, and fix it. So I'm willing to overlook this. But do try to avoid running incomplete tests in the future."

_It _wasn't_ incomplete. __They're setting me up_. Tony thought again.

"All right?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

This had happened mere six hours ago, right before Tony was about to head home from work. Now, around midnight, alone in the bed downstairs, the anger and thirst for retaliation came back to him. Michelle was already in bed, and hopefully sleeping. Or not. In any case, he hadn't heard from her in half an hour. The window to the street was open, someone's trash was stinking up the fresh air and a cat was meowing close by. Tony ignored it. He had more important problems to deal with.

_First those moronic assignments, then that little punk tries to have a piece of me and now they're planting mistakes to show how incompetent I am. Assholes. _he thought, staring at the ceiling.

_What do they know about me? Essentially nothing, how could they? They know what was in the press or online, that's it. High profile case. Lots of coverage. Not like you get treason in the paper every day. _he mused, bitter. _Robin. That asshole. What the hell do they know? They've never been in that situation where they would have to make the choice. Except maybe, maybe Robin. Though I doubt it. Injury, my ass. If he were a decent NCO, he'd know that there's more to people than meets the eye. He's an idiot, that's all he is. He must have been dishonorably discharged._

_Yeah but he's got them all working for him. And against you. _his private devil intruded.

_It just goes to show how easy it is to manipulate people if you find the right words to say. _

"Son of a bitch!" Tony quietly muttered and, suddenly becoming aware of his parched throat, got out of bed to get himself a glass of water. His thoughts kept revolving around the same thing. _I've taken their scorn long enough. If they use my past against me, there has to be some dirt on them too. _He scratched his forehead in frustration and strode to the kitchen. _Yeah, but how to get to it? It's not like I have clearance and access to government files anymore. _

On his way to the kitchen, his gaze fell on Michelle's laptop case on the floor by the front door and his mind instantly reminded him, _You don't… but Michelle does_.

Tony didn't stop by the computer but switched on the light in the kitchen and filled a glass with water. _No, I can't do that. If they catch me… _

_No one will know, it's Michelle's laptop, isn't it?_ the devil on his shoulder assured him. _You need ammo against these bastards. Get back at them. You have the means right there. _

Tony took a swig from the glass. _I don't know her password. _

_Oh, come on. You've done it with Ragen's computer. You have a Master's in computer science and you know CTU's systems. And she's your wife, you'll figure it out, can't be that hard._

He set the empty glass down next to the sink and started to walk back to his bedroom, but stopped by the laptop case, staring at it.

_Go on, no one will know…_

After a moment's hesitation, he opened the case, grabbed the laptop and sat on the couch, switching the computer on. The temptation was simply too hard to resist. He was able to pass Michelle's computer password somewhat easily, then opened a wireless network connection to Division's server and set about figuring out that password. It was not going to be easy. But then he remembered a piece of software he'd programmed a long time ago, during his first months at CTU. He had wanted to test just how easy it would be to hack into the network, crack the passwords. It had taken time, but he'd done it. Over the years, it had become somewhat of an ongoing side project to him, an exercise in programming, just so it wouldn't begin to rust. No-one knew about this project of his, and he never ran it but every time CTU put new security measures in place, Tony played around with his program until he'd cracked them. Then he waited for the next security upgrade. He'd always run the program and simulations on an isolated machine, disconnected from the network, so that his game wouldn't open vulnerabilities to the outside world, and also so that he could stay under the radar. He would of course be able to explain away what he was doing, but avoiding detection was preferable. Though he'd used it to test CTU's security, he knew that with a couple modifications, he'd get into Division's systems, too. The underlying protocols were the same.

Setting the laptop on the glass table in front of him for a minute, he rushed to the study and fetched the disc, then inserted it into the drive and started the program, which greeted him and informed him it had built a secure environment and was now ready for a task. "Crack it." Tony told it and gave it a command. The program responded and Tony interacted with it again. Another success. He continued.

He was tapping away on the keyboard, and finally the program began to work on the combinatorial part of the task. "Come on, let me in." he said to the software. A short time later, four of eight digits were already cracked and he was so focused on the random combinations the downloaded program was running that he didn't hear the door to the master bedroom open or soft footsteps in the hallway. Nor did he notice Michelle come down the stairs and stop three feet behind him, looking over his shoulder. It was her voice that yanked him out of his thoughts.

"Tony?"

He froze and cursed inwardly, _Oh, son of a bitch_, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." he answered gruffly, not daring to turn towards her but slowly motioning to close the laptop.

"That's the server to Division you're trying to access." she stated, moving to his side so she could look at him. Her tone was composed and firm, but Tony knew her better than that. She was alarmed. Clearly. Nevertheless, she kept her words clear and her voice steady as she dryly remarked, "You're after classified intel."

_Great. You let her catch you red-handed_. Tony kicked himself for not being more careful. _Rule number one: never sit with your back to the door. Damn._ Just then, the computer produced a beep, happily announcing the password had been cracked.

Michelle paused for a moment, then added, "Tony, you don't just hack into my computer and tell me it's nothing."

Slowly, he closed the laptop, set it on the glass table in front of him and stood, scratching his face. _Yeah I know I hacked into your computer. I had no choice. But the dumbest thing was to let you catch me._ he thought to himself and took a couple of steps away from Michelle.

Michelle now circled fully around the couch, stepped up to Tony and held him by the elbow. "Tony, stop. Sit down."

_She'll follow you around anyway until she's had her say. _Pulling his arm from her grip he glared at her but eventually sat down. "What?"

With a sigh, Michelle sat down in the chair next to the couch. She glanced at the laptop, then again at Tony. "What were you doing there? Tell me what you were looking for."

_Better just keep quiet and let her say what she says. You royally screwed up this time. Again. _Tony just looked away from her, unable to meet her eye. _What am I supposed to say? There's nothing I _can_ say. What's done is done._

"Have you done this before?" she pressed on. "Or is tonight the first time?"

He sighed and again scratched his cheek, then quietly admitted, "It's the first time." _You probably wouldn't have caught me if it wasn't_.

Relief washed over her face, betraying her emotions for just a second, but then she sat up straight in the chair again. "What were you trying to find?"

_Nothing that I could tell you about. _He didn't reply.

She tried one more time. "Is something happening at work? Does that have anything to do with this?"

Still nothing.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

_Probably more than you could possibly understand. But it's none of your business_.

"I don't believe this." she uttered and gave him a frustrated look. "Tony, do you have any idea what consequences this could have?" Tony frowned and rolled his eyes at her words but she continued, "If Division finds out, they will take this to District. This isn't just going to go away. They will put you in jail and Jack won't be able to get you-"

"You think I don't know that?" he spat, interrupting her. "You think I don't know the _consequences?_ Well, I do!" _Better than you or Jack or anyone else. _

Ten seconds of silence followed, in which Michelle breathed in deeply, then put a hand down on Tony's arm, looking into his eyes pleadingly. "There has to be a reason you're willing to risk prison again-"

Tony stood, glaring at her angrily. "The reason for this has nothing to do with you! Back off, Michelle!"

When he stood, Michelle followed suit. "I don't think that your trying to break into a secure server through my computer and my account, looking for information you have no clearance for has nothing to do with me. If nothing else, I'm the one who's going to have to cover for you if they find out! The least you could do is tell me _what_ I'm covering. There has to be something. I don't think it's because you miss your old job and the access you used to have."

Michelle's last statement stabbed Tony more than he was willing to admit. He wanted to forget CTU the best he could since he knew he could never have it back. The last thing he craved for was power and she seemed to be implying exactly that. She understood nothing. But she acted as if she knew everything. His eyes narrowed and he stretched his body to use every inch of his height to underline his decisiveness and mask his hurt.

"Then _turn me in_." he snarled at her. "If you're so worried about covering your back. That way it's just me on the line and not you. Like the last time."

Suddenly, Michelle's palm smacked Tony's cheek but she seemed just as surprised by that slap as Tony. Her eyes widened for a second and then she stepped back, pain and regret instantly visible in her expression.

At first, Tony glared at her until the shock in his eyes was replaced by contempt. It took only a second or two. He couldn't prevent his cheek from stinging and turning hot but damned if he'd touch it.

She swallowed hard. "Tony..." she whispered apologetically and reached out to him again, tentatively touching his shoulder with her other hand, the one hand that hadn't slapped him.

_Oh, so now you're sorry. _Tony scoffed, and now that he'd recovered from the surprise, he just turned away from her, shaking off her hand from his shoulder. _Trying to take back the damage, are you. You can't._

He heard her sigh heavily and ten seconds later she must have turned away. He heard her pick up the laptop from the glass table. _Yeah, don't trust me with it. I could try again_.

Slowly, she walked up the stairs to the bedroom and left him alone. It was then he finally dared breathe. He scratched his burning cheek, ran both his hands through his hair, interlocked his fingers on his neck, and rested his head on his hands for a few moments. _She slapped me. _He grinned bitterly. _Well, I deserved it._

_Damn it, Almeida. Not only didn't you find out anything, but you let her catch you._

He scratched his forehead in frustration. _Everything I touch goes bad. _

Hesitantly, he glanced upstairs at the closed door to the master bedroom, then towards the cedar wood cabinet that hid the cure; even if only temporary, it would still be a relief. He strode to the cabinet and took the Vat69 out. He walked the full bottle back to the couch, opened it along the way, sat down and began to drink from it. Michelle's face stared at him from the photos on the walls everywhere around the room but he ignored it. He drank. One gulp, two, three, four, he didn't care how much. Tonight, he needed it and he wasn't going to stop.

He was still drinking when Michelle showed up in the hallway. She headed towards the staircase, but stopped at the first step and looked down at him. Disappointment and guilt written all over her face, she watched him gulp down the whiskey for a few seconds, then turned back and returned to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her quietly. Ten minutes and more than half a bottle later, Tony's body, no longer used to the alcohol, had enough and he passed out. At the same time, Michelle, alone in the bedroom, began to cry.

* * *

p.s. The lyrics are from "_Hearts Breaking Even_" & _"Dry County"_, both songs by Bon Jovi. I just _had_ to include them since they're so fitting. 


	22. Digging deeper

_**A/N: **Wow, the last chapter caused quite a discussion in the reviews! Well, I thank all of you for your honest opinions._

_I suppose I should say a few things at this point. Firstly, if you think the story is all pain, I have to disagree. I assume you've forgotten the earlier chapters because it's been taking me about 4 weeks on average to update. The story has had some ups in addition to the downs, but as for the general direction, I suggest you check your memories of season 4. __Just so it's said yet again: this story bridges seasons 3 and 4 and I'm hardly the type to go AU...__ The only thing I'm guilty of is that the story has grown too long, I know that, I've noticed it, but somehow, the fic just took on a life of its own... I still hope that those of you who are not sick and tired of the pain are still enjoying it._

_Someone accused me of enjoying seeing TM suffer. __I want to state something clearly here: TM are one of the greatest, cutest and definitely my favorite couples on TV ever and my 24 addiction goes out to Almeida all the way. If you crave cute and fluffy TM stuff, read "Morning, Sweetheart". But the situation between s3 and s4 is what it is. FOX served us that storyline, I'm only explaining why it's plausible things ended the way they did (and luckily, there's still season 4 _:-D_). Though Tony is not the easiest man to live with at this point, it is not my intention to make you hate him - I most certainly don't - but it is my intention to explain that Michelle wasn't a bitch for leaving him. And I sure as hell won't have Michelle ending up with Jack...  
_

_Now, if you're still here and reading this, I take it you understand what this is all about, and if you decide to read on, keep that in mind. Thanks, both for understanding and for reading._

_Almeida is God._

* * *

**Day 54**

The doorbell rang and Michelle, still dressed in the black costume and bright purple blouse she'd worn at work, made the distance between the kitchen and the entrance in five seconds. The open door revealed a slender 56 year old with black hair and gold-rimmed, longish, square eyeglasses on his nose. The man, Dr. Layton Lance, wore black slacks and a starched white shirt and carried the compulsory black leather bag with him almost everywhere.

"Dr. Lance. Thank you for coming." Michelle shook the doctor's hand at the door before he stepped in.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all," he smiled. "I understand your husband is weary of hospitals by now."

"Yes, he is." Michelle confirmed. A mere hour ago, when she came home, she'd found Tony lying on the couch in the living room, wrapped in two blankets and shivering. When she approached the couch, Tony tried to bury himself deeper into the blankets and quietly admitted, "I'm freezing."

Michelle placed an open palm on Tony's forehead. "You're burning up." she stated, for a fleeting moment remembering the last time she felt his brow like this, back in the holding cell at Divison. It had felt cold and clammy then, quite the opposite from the heat she felt now. "I'll call Dr. Lance to get an appointment. I'll take you to the hospital," she said, suppressing the ugly memories to the back of her mind.

At this, Tony opened his eyes and tried to sit up a little. "No, don't. It's just a cold and…" his sentence was interrupted by a dry coughing fit. "And I've had… I've had those before." he finished amid coughing, looking at her. "It'll pass in a few days."

"Honey, Dr. Lance instructed us to see him if you got sick. Your immune system-"

"I know..." Tony interrupted her, although weakly. "But I don't need to go there for this."

Michelle tilted her head to the side. She looked at him, about to say something, then glanced away, sighing, only to look at him again a moment later, and then stare at the floor behind the couch for a few seconds. When Tony pulled the blankets closer, the movement made Michelle focus on him again. Then Tony found her eyes just for a second before averting his own and whispered, his voice barely audible, "'Chelle, please." And then she understood.

"I think both of us have had enough of hospitals, Doctor." Michelle reaffirmed before closing the front door behind Dr. Lance.

"I can imagine," he nodded and looked around the living room. "Where is Tony?"

"In the bedroom, right over here." she gestured towards the guest room Tony had made his own and lead the visitor there.

--

Tony was lying in bed, shivering, his body wracked by chills. "Damn this... Can't even get warm," he muttered to himself._ I need another blanket. But she won't let me. _He couldn't breathe through the nose but breathing through the mouth dried his throat and made him cough, annoying the hell out of him.

As the door opened, he turned his eyes towards it, though he knew exactly who it would be. He watched Michelle linger in the doorway while mixed feelings and memories entered the room with a smile and greeted him, "Hello Tony."

"Hey, Doc." Tony forced himself to slightly sit up against the pillows, fighting the heaviness in his limbs. The face before him reminded him of the long time he'd spent at Cedars and the endless period of recovery; but there was no need to be anything but friendly to yet another person who'd helped save his life, so Tony put up a small smile while Dr. Lance approached the bed.

"I heard you like to swim in the ocean at night." the doctor teased Tony with a light smile on his face. "I guess a mermaid had the flu, huh?"

Tony laughed out slightly, but the laugh ended up in a cough.

"Sorry about that." Dr. Lance said, while pulling a chair next to the bed.

Tony wanted to reply it was all right but couldn't interrupt the coughing fit.

"So, tell me how you're feeling," the doctor said when Tony managed to stop coughing.

Tony grabbed a kleenex from the nightstand and blew his nose before replying. "Congestion, throat ache, headache, aching muscles, the works." Tony summarized. "Caught a cold somehow," he proceeded to autodiagnose his illness.

"Okay, let's see." the doctor sat on the chair and set his bag down on the floor. "Michelle said you got a fever," he said, digging out a thermometer from his bag. "How long have you been feeling sick?"

"I was starting to feel a little under the weather a couple of days ago," Tony replied with a groan and closed his eyes. "I went to work as usual. I figured it would pass."

"Okay," Lance then held the thermometer out to Tony. "Put that in your mouth. Good." He then went up to Michelle. "Michelle, if you don't mind, I'd like to examine Tony in private now."

"Dr. Lance, I'm his wife..." she protested.

He flashed a friendly smile at her. "I know. But it's just the way I do things, surely you remember that. The doctor-patient relationship is confidential, even in a case as trivial as a cold. I'll find you when we're done."

Michelle sighed, "Okay. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks," he declined politely. "We won't be long."

Michelle cast a long, worried glance at Tony before leaving the room, and then the doctor closed the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony was sitting on the bed, holding both his elbows with his hands, shivering even harder than before. He had removed his t-shirt and wore nothing but sweatpants while the doctor listened to his patient's lungs through the stethoscope. The metal had felt cold on Tony's skin in the beginning but now it had adjusted to his body temperature. Still, the skin on his well-trained chest, arms and back was rough with goose bumps that repeatedly surfaced and then disappeared only to come back again soon. _Just let me get dressed again. Damn. It's cold._

Eventually, Dr. Lance removed the stethoscope from his ears. "Okay, Tony, your lungs seem clear. Looks like it's a regular cold, at least for now. As long as you don't develop pneumonia, you'll be fine."

"Good." _I told her so,_ Tony thought but at the end of the day, had to admit he was glad to actually hear this. One less thing to worry about. He pulled the t-shirt back on as fast as he could, hoping to get a little warmer soon.

Dr. Lance helped Tony lay back in the bed. "I'll give you something to bring the fever down and prescribe you something for the cough, but other than that, all you can do is rest."

"Yeah. Thanks." _Been there before._ He blew his nose again, then pulled the cover up to his chin, willing for the chills to stop. It was a fruitless endeavor.

Dr. Lance observed Tony for a few moments. "How have you been otherwise? You look very tired."

"I'm fine, thanks. That is, if you don't count this thing right now." Tony replied, trying to clear his throat.

"You're sure?"

Tony averted his eyes from the other man. _Ask him. _

_It's just the stress. _

_What can he do?_

_Ask him anyway._

The doctor sat quietly, waiting. Tony said nothing. A couple of minutes passed in silence, then the doctor picked up his bag from the floor.

_He's gonna leave. Ask him. _

Finally, Tony gave himself a push and spoke up. "Look, uhm…" he paused for a second, "Actually, I haven't slept too well lately. I keep having these nightmares, about what happened."

Dr. Lance set his bag back down on the floor. "About what brought you to Cedars?"

"Mostly, yeah. That and a couple other things. But the result is the same." _No need to pour my heart out about Robin and his morons._

A look of compassion crossed Lance's face. "I see... How long ago did this start?"

"Uhm... I've had nightmares every now and then since-" _Since I got out of prison_. "For a few months now. But these new ones started when I came home from the hospital." _When I used up my medication_.

"Can you sleep at all?" Lance asked.

"Short periods, but the dreams always come." Tony's voice was raspy at first but then he managed to control it. "Not sleeping after that. It's like I keep... reliving the same thing again and again, one way or another." He pulled the cover even tighter around himself, as if for protection.

"And you're afraid when you wake up."

"Yeah." Tony admitted quietly, his eyes staring blankly past the doctor. _I'm afraid to think of them._

Dr. Lance took off his glasses and put them on the nightstand beside Tony's bed. A few seconds passed before he asked, "How about when you're awake? Do you feel anxious? Any flashbacks? Panic attacks?"

Tony had to cough yet again before he had enough breath to reply. "I don't know what they are, besides the flashbacks, and I do have those, but whatever it is, it makes me feel physically ill. I can't hear anything, I can't breathe... Like there's a rock or something on my chest. Tunnel vision... It passes after some time, though. But it leaves me drained and frightened." he almost whispered the last words, ashamed of them.

The doctor nodded in thought. "Have you had these often?"

"A couple of times."

"Hmm..." Dr. Lance was now silent and pensive for a little while, eyeing Tony carefully.

Tony eyed the doctor anxiously, but eventually couldn't wait any longer. He had to ask. "What's wrong with me? Am I going crazy?" he whispered.

"No. No, you are not going crazy."

The doctor's answer came quickly enough to convince even Tony. But he still pressed on, "Then what is it?"

The pause before Dr. Lance replied was torturously long. But Tony waited. _Come on, spit it out. It can't be that bad, can it? _His palms were sweating but he wasn't sure if it was from the fever or fear. He gripped the cover to inconspicuously rub them dry.

Eventually, Dr. Lance cleared his throat and the reply came. "Well... I am no psychiatrist, Tony, but it is possible that the events you've gone through have left more than just physical traces on you."

_What? I'm not crazy but I do need a shrink? _Tony's face was one big question mark.

Dr. Lance paused for a second, and leaned towards Tony, resting his elbows on his knees. "It takes more than a few quick questions to understand what's going on, but... There is a condition called post-traumatic stress disorder, I'm sure you've heard of it. Now, it doesn't mean people suffering from it are crazy," he quickly added in a soothing voice, and Tony knew the wording was meant to reassure him; he wasn't sure if it did. "It is simply a reaction that people who were put through highly stressful and emotionally traumatizing situations sometimes experience... War veterans, for example. Witnesses and victims of violent crimes. Or of torture."

The gentle look Dr. Lance gave Tony reflected knowledge of the contents of Tony's medical files and the injuries on Tony's body as he was admitted to Cedars, life hanging by a thin thread. Tony looked away but said nothing. He banned the doctor's last word from his mind by focusing on two other words. _War veterans..._

"Nightmares, flashbacks and anxiety are usually quite prominent." the doctor proceeded to explain. "From what I remember, other symptoms can include jumpiness, aggressiveness, irritability... emotional detachment... paranoia and a lot more." He sat up in the chair again. "Now, it clearly doesn't mean that everyone who has nightmares about some event they've experienced will end up suffering from a disorder. But if the symptoms last for long periods, such a condition can develop and if it does, it could have serious consequences."

By the time Lance's voice died down, Tony's mind had already moved on, and he didn't really want to hear any more. Wasting no time on additional questions, he looked at the doctor and quickly nodded, "All right. Thanks for the help."

"No thanks needed..." Lance hesitated a few seconds, but then added, "Tony, I don't know enough about stress disorders to actually diagnose them. But if you think this might be happening to you, you should seek help. PTSD can be treated. But it is not something you can just deal with on your own."

"Yeah. I appreciate it. Look, I'm really feeling drained." Tony tried to sound apologetic, but the truth was, he was afraid the word 'psychiatrist' would fall again. _Just leave now._

Dr. Lance nodded, lifting his bag from the floor. "That's okay. You should get some rest. If the cold gets worse, give me a call. You do want to avoid pneumonia."

"Yeah, ok." _I need to avoid a lot of things_.

Dr. Lance was at the door as Tony called him back, "Doc."

Tony waited until the doctor looked at him again, then said quietly but clearly, "This was _confidential_, all right?"

Layton Lance kept his eyes on Tony for a long time before finally agreeing, "Yes, of course."

"Thanks." Tony watched the doctor leave and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed.

Alone again, Tony shut his eyes and dug in deeper into the bed to rest. _Post-traumatic stress disorder... PTSD. _He went back in time all the way to his service in the Marine Corps. That's when he first heard of it. _That's what they said some of the guys in Vietnam had. Some of them are still suffering from it. And now the guys coming home from Iraq. Combat can do that to you, _he mused.

_But I got out of the Gulf all right in '91. So did all of my men. Besides, why would this be happening now? Surely Robin is a bastard but he's not exactly traumatizing. No, it would have hit me before, not now._

_Well, something's wrong. Michelle basically told you to see a shrink. And now this doc is saying the same thing. Directly._

_No, no shrinks. That's a weakness. It's a mark on the record. I'd never find a decent job again. _

_'I brought you up to be strong. Almeidas don't give up,_' Enrico's voice sounded in Tony's head. _And__Marines don't see shrinks,_ Tony added. _Especially not with prison already on my record. _

Tony closed his eyes, despite the fear of falling asleep. _I don't have PTSD. It's just stress. This will pass, I just need to weather it out. I've always made it out of everything before. I'll handle this, too. _

--

Fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door opened again. This time, Michelle alone entered, carrying a white mug full of steaming tea. Tony had nodded off, so she just stood by the door for a second or two, watching him. But then he woke up, and as his eyes opened, Michelle smiled slightly and walked in. "Hey."

Tony raised his eyes towards her, but instead of speaking, just tried to swallow, and grunted in response to the pain in his throat. He shifted slightly, his head now emerging fully from underneath the cover.

Michelle carried Cubby to the nightstand, then gently sat down on the bed next to Tony. He breathed in deeply as she sat down, trying to balance out the vibration that caused a little queasiness in his head. She ran a hand through his sweaty hair and he closed his eyes again, just concentrating on her touch.

"Dr. Lance left." she then told him by way of starting the conversation. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell." Tony managed to croak, the effort immediately rewarded by a minute-long bout of cough, so strong he thought he'd throw up. When he eventually managed to stop, he shut his eyes and focused on his breathing for a while. _Goddamn this. _His nose still wouldn't allow the air through, despite the drops he'd taken. _I hate being sick_. he admitted to himself. At least the headache had lessened somewhat and he wasn't shivering at the moment. The fever was coming down. It would come back during the night, that was certain, but for now, the medication was working. Calling the doctor was a good idea after all.

Then he felt Michelle's hand in his hair again, and took this as a reason to look at her. Sometimes it was beyond him, the way she could look at him with so much love in her eyes, as if it were their first day together and not four years later; as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them. Her fingertips gliding along his scalp with almost no pressure at all made her touch feel gentle and soft and Tony began to relax.

"I'll stay home with you tomorrow." she then whispered, tucking a strand of hair, just an inch too long, behind his right ear.

"No." Tony tried to sit up, taking a breath to say something else, when Michelle cut in.

"Yes." She helped him change position and took the Cubs mug from the nightstand, holding it out to him. "Here."

Tony accepted the tea. It warmed his hands and it was welcome warmth. "Thanks." he murmured, but didn't drink. "'Chelle..." he began again.

"I'm staying. Don't argue with me on this, ok?" she asserted.

Tony looked at her skeptically. _Did Lance tell her?_ For some reason, he couldn't read Michelle's face. If Lance had actually told her something, she was hiding it too well; or maybe there was nothing to hide. _He can't have told her. It was confidential._ Tony took a sip of the scalding drink, still eyeing Michelle from underneath his eyebrows. The tea was just cool enough not to burn his lips but warm enough to soothe the ache in his throat for the second that it took it to flow downwards. Tony's sore throat asked for more, so he took another gulp before asking, "What will Division say?"

Michelle's hand touched his thigh through the cover. "Don't worry about that."

"Michelle..." _I hate it when you use me as an excuse and you know that._

"I said, don't worry about that." she replied resolutely. "It's none of their business. I'll call in sick. They can manage a day or two without me."

At that, Tony sighed, knowing he couldn't stop her. _It's better if she stays. Just for tomorrow. _"Thanks." he finally said and this time, didn't mean the tea.

--

Night had fallen a long time ago, but Tony's bedroom wasn't dark yet. Both he and Michelle were still awake and while he was lying on his back in the bed, she was sitting on the chair next to the bed, waiting. The last hour had been spent trying her best to keep Tony comfortable while he was shivering again, and when the fever refused to come down on its own, waiting for the medication to kick in. The wet towel on Tony's forehead brought him temporary relief until it heated up again; then Michelle would wet it again and replace it. Now it was past midnight; Tony's limbs felt too heavy to move and he could hardly force himself to keep his eyes open much longer.

"101.2." Michelle read the temperature from the thermometer in her hand and concluded, "It's coming down again."

During the moments he felt up to thinking, Tony was glad Michelle was with him. But when Michelle crawled into the bed right next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world, he protested, "'Chelle, don't sleep down here. I'm contagious, you don't need this."

By the time he finished the sentence, she was already under the cover, leaning over him. "I'm already as exposed as I can be. Sleeping upstairs won't make a difference." she replied, kissing his cheek goodnight. "Besides, I can't help you from upstairs when that fever kicks in again."

Tony sighed, knowing she was right. "But you won't be able to sleep, either." He sneezed before Michelle could reply, and Tony turned away from her, sneezing again.

Michelle then laid her head on Tony's shoulder, snuggling up against him. "Do you need anything else right now?"

_Being able to breathe through the nose would be good_. "No, thanks. I'm fine. You should try to sleep."

Michelle sighed contently, leading a hand to Tony's chest. "Night."

It was simply too tempting not to, so Tony's fingers found their way into her full head of hair. He'd almost forgotten how tender her curls felt. "G' night." he echoed, his eyes already shut. _Let's see if this will let me sleep._

Two seconds later, Michelle whispered, "Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"I shouldn't have taken you to the beach that night. This is my fault."

"Hey..." Tony's arm tightened around her somewhat and he kissed her curls. "You didn't make me go into the water, not the second time anyway. It was _my _choice. Don't beat yourself up over it, all right?"

She didn't reply for ten seconds, so he tried again. "Promise me."

But then he noticed her head had grown heavy on his shoulder and her breathing was quiet and regular, realizing she had fallen asleep. He smiled inwardly, closed his eyes, waiting for sleep, fitful or not, to consume him, too.

**Day 56**

"Okay, listen to me now." Robin Wilson was back in the dark storage room, as were Andy, Cory, Nathan and Felix. He stood in the midst of them, his pale face contrasting the black color of his perfectly ironed shirt. He sniffed before continuing. "That bastard Almeida is supposedly still sick. Maybe that's true, maybe not. The thing is, I don´t care if he's sick. He's not here, and that's something we can exploit."

Andy gave Robin a doubtful look and pulled his right hand out of his pocket to scratch his scalp. "How?"

Robin turned his head to the follower. "Oh, that's easy. We all know he's come in late on several occasions, and that he's drinking. Now he's been gone for days. So, first of all, put the word out that he's of little use to us. Make sure everyone realizes he's missing work on a regular basis, that he's unreliable, coming to work drunk, missing things. Then, make sure Michael realizes it. I'll take care of Michael primarily, but if he asks any of you about Tony, you know what to say."

Everyone except for Felix nodded wordlessly, but he eventually gave a loud sigh. "Rob-"

"What?" Robin interrupted him tersely. "You gonna defend him again?" Robin stepped closer to Felix. "Frankly, I'm getting tired of this, Fix. I didn't think you'd pose such a problem."

"No, I'm not gonna _defend_ him." Felix replied, "Even though what you're doing is wrong." _Simply because I need to stay in this to keep an eye on you._ "But I do think you should leave it alone now."

Robin gave a laugh, scoffing, but Felix continued, "Listen, you've got him where you want him. Give it time, it will happen on its own. There's no need to push him any deeper. You'll not only get him fired, you'll destroy him."

Robin sniffed again and installed himself directly in front of Felix, glaring at him fiercely. "You think I care?" He paused for a second. "You _really_ think I care?"

Felix sighed but crossed his arms at his chest. "No, I suppose not."

"That's right." Robin stated levelly. "I don't want that traitor son of a bitch to ever get another job."

_I don't think that's really necessary._ Felix thought but said nothing.

Then Cory adjusted his baseball cap and scratched his newly grown reddish goatie. "You're not really in this, Fix, are you?"

"Yeah, man, you're not really in this." Andy echoed.

"Oh, come on," Felix uttered quietly. _Brainless followers._

"See, Fix," Nathan approached Felix at an arm's length. "You're either with us or against us. And I don't think you're _with _us. Not anymore."

_You idiots..._ "So, what are you going to do? Beat me up?" Felix stared Nathan down defiantly. _Personally, I'd love to beat _you_ up_, he thought. _Your brain must have taken a walk a long time ago and never came back. _Neither Nathan nor Felix moved, but Cory and Andy took a couple of steps back, giving them space while Felix, not even blinking, waited for Nathan to make the first move.

"Back off, Nathan." Robin finally said firmly, giving Nathan a slight push to underline his words. Though Nathan's glare didn't soften, he stepped back, allowing Robin to get between him and Felix. Then Robin spoke. "No-one's gonna beat you up, Fix." He sniffed. "But you're out. Beat it."

"You bastard." Felix said through gritted teeth. _Damn it. I took it too far._

"Get out while you still can, Fix, and I'll leave you alone. Don't turn me against you."

"Don't threaten me, Rob. I don't like it."

"Trust me, Fix. You don't want me for an enemy. Get out."

Felix stared at Robin wordlessly. His eyes narrowed. His fist itched, as if asking to meet Robin's cheek, but he clenched it hard to keep his emotions in check. _Calm down. Not here. Not now. Don't give them reasons to go to Michael. Keep the upper hand. They think they're winning but the truth is on your side. And there's still Esther. You'll think of something later. _Full twenty seconds passed before he finally uttered, "Fine," and pushed himself past Robin and Cory, left the room and slammed the door shut.

**Day 57**

Tony's bedroom was darkened by the blinds on the window, and Tony was sitting in bed, leaning on pillows set up against the head of the bed. Michelle was sitting next to him, watching him eat soup from the bowl he was holding. She wore dark rings around her eyes, her skin was pale and her hair hung loosely to her shoulders, the curls somewhat limp and straightened.

While he was eating, Tony actually watched her, too. She hadn't slept much the previous nights, either. She was taking sick days at work for him. Some techs from Division had called a few times to ask for her help and he knew they needed her there. He ran CTU for too long to believe Division was running smoothly with Michelle away. She was too valuable an asset to just go awol for three days in a row, they both knew that. Tony wondered if they were doubting she was really sick. He wondered what exact reason she'd given them. He tried to ask her but she never replied directly, so he let it be. He didn't have the strength to argue.

This one guy named Buchanan called, too, twice. The phone was on the night stand when it first rang, so Tony picked up. He didn't sound like a tech to Tony, so Tony asked a few questions, trying not to sound sick and to suppress the cough. During their short conversation, Tony's ear discerned two components in Buchanan's voice: first, there was genuine worry about Michelle, though Buchanan never directly asked Tony about her well-being; second, impatience seeped through his curt words. He explained to Tony he was Special Agent in Charge before Tony would call Michelle to the phone.

Her boss was calling. She had a job to do. She had no obligation to stay home with him. And yet there she was, in sweatpants and t-shirt, feeding him soup from the take out around the corner.

"There, that's it." Michelle took the spoon and the empty bowl from Tony when he finished the soup.

"Thanks." Tony uttered quietly, leaning deeper into the pillow.

"Now try to get some sleep." she suggested, getting up from the chair next to the bed. "It´s been a long night."

"Yeah. You should rest, too."

"Maybe later." She turned to leave, "Sleep well."

Tony pushed himself under the cover and followed Michelle with his eyes. She was at the door, about to switch off the light when Tony called her back. "Michelle."

She turned around and looked at him, "Yeah?"

Eyes fixed on hers, Tony nodded slightly and said solemnly, "Thank you."

Michelle smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Honey-"

"No, I mean it." the serious expression on his face underlined his words. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Michelle´s smile stayed on, as she stepped back to the bed, crouched next to him and stroked his forearm, whispering, "You don't need to thank me."

"Yes, I do," he said. "I know they need you at work. I just want you to know I appreciate this."

Michelle bowed down to kiss his forehead and whispered, "Just get better soon."

When she rose again, Tony had averted his brown eyes from her, staring at the wall on the other side of the room. _You owe her an apology_, he told himself. _You do. Even if she does ask._ Then slowly, he raised his head and cleared his throat. "Look, uhm..." Now he forced himself to look at her face. "I'm sorry about the other night... about hacking into your computer… I know I shouldn't have done that."

His voice gradually died down with the last words. As difficult as it had been to say it, he knew it was the right thing to do, even though it didn´t make things undone and he still saw no other way to get back at Robin and his gang. He wasn't really sorry about trying. But it was Michelle´s computer he´d hacked into to gain access to Division and it was her trust he´d broken. And that, that he _was_ sorry for. As much as he hated to admit it, breaking her trust somehow hurt him, too.

He couldn't prevent his muscles from tensing. _She has every right to be angry and every right to ask about the why._ He didn't know what to answer if she did ask, so he turned away from her again, expecting the logical question to come. He couldn't explain things to her; he wouldn't. Whatever Robin threw at him, he would suck it up and deal with it, but he wouldn't draw Michelle into it, and he certainly wouldn't let her suggest he quit the job to get away from them.

But the dreaded question never came. Instead, Michelle just sighed softly, kissing the top of his head. "It's okay, try to get some sleep."

At that, he looked at her, eyeing her warily. _Does she really mean it? Can she really let this go?__She would have to answer to Division if they find out. Maybe they already found out. But then again, maybe they didn't._ He tried to find out from her expression if she was just leading him on, if she would bring this up again later, stab him in the back. But nothing about her suggested she was going to say anything else; worry was the only emotion he could read in her eyes. She even smiled again. Eventually, Tony sighed deeply and closed his eyes, deciding to trust her on this. She remained sitting by his side, stroking his hair, and with every touch of her hand, Tony's breathing became more regular and the tension in his body eased. A while later, the fatigue pulled him under and he fell asleep.


	23. All is fair in love and war

**A/N:** Clearly, this story is slowly coming to an end. Just as clearly, the remaining couple of chapters won't be fluffy. Now I could end this in three scenes instead, but I won't, because I personally like the way this goes down. But as they say, if you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen ;-). I write this for the sake of writing, if you read it, read it for the sake of reading. Thanks.

With the latest out of the FOX studios, has anyone else out there decided to watch season 7 after all?

* * *

**Day 60**

The sky was blue and cloudless, though a slight breeze was blowing when Tony slammed the SUV door shut and slowly walked towards the entrance of the tall building he worked in. He barely glanced at the security guard behind the desk in the lobby. His key card opened the glass doors and he headed straight to the elevator. He felt no excitement about going to work; if it hadn't been for certain people he'd learned to hate, he would have felt indifferent. The elevator first stopped on the 6th floor, allowing four dark haired women in. Their chatting stopped when the door closed and they kept silent for the few seconds the ride took. They exited on the 10th floor, where a bearded, balding man in a brownish-grey suit joined Tony, pushing the button to the 20th.

Tony eyed the man with interest. There was something about him that reminded Tony of George Mason; maybe his posture, the color of his thin beard, maybe the scent of his cologne. Though Division bureaucrats would never win the People's Choice award at CTU, Tony had to hand it off to George: the guy understood the game. He sure didn't appreciate being left out of the loop, but when quick decisions were needed, he'd do the right thing. That was at least one thing Tony and George had in common, that trait of making the call and worrying about the consequences later; both of them had come at odds with Chappelle for that more than once.

George also had a way of talking to people like few others did. Jack had never explained to Tony just how George had managed to persuade him to do the hard thing and continue living his life, to parachute out of the plane - but he did. Not many people might have succeeded at that. Tony thought about George sometimes. What if George had been in Hammond's place? Would he have done to Tony what Hammond had?

Just then, the man's cell phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. "Hendrix." he stated his name, and Tony had to stifle a laugh. The day George died, Tony needed George's password to access his computer. Mason's password was _Hendrix_.

Five seconds later, Hendrix left. Three floors later, Tony stepped out of the elevator, hesitating a second before sighing heavily and heading towards the office with a grim expression on his face.

On the way to his desk, he glanced towards Esther's work area, noticing a thin layer of dust that had set on her keyboard and mouse. Her unwashed coffee cup still stood where she'd left it weeks ago. Suddenly, Tony changed his mind and took a right turn towards Nathan's desk. Installing himself in front of the fat geek, he asked loudly, "Where's Esther?"

Nathan grinned like the idiot he was. "I have a better question for you. Where have _you_ been?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I don't answer to you. Where is she?"

"Really?" Nathan stood from his chair. "Cause I bet Michael would love to know why you skipped work for a week."

"I didn't _skip work_. I was sick. And Michael knows that."

"Sick, uh?" Nathan's grin grew even wider as his voice became louder. "Is that what they call it when you're too damn wasted to drag your butt to work?"

Tony didn't even have time to respond because Robin came between them. "Cut it out." he commanded. "Or take it elsewhere."

Tony and Nathan glared at each other, wrath and hatred in their eyes, but both kept quiet. Blood rose to Tony's head, sweat protruded from his pores. He itched to shove the idiot against the wall and teach him some manners. But instead, he eventually headed to his desk. _Goddamned sons of bitches__. Ten seconds back in here and I'm already the asshole again._

When Tony was gone, Robin gave Nathan a small supportive glance, then went back to work at his own station. Tony dropped into the chair, whacking the computer mouse in frustration. Before he had a chance to calm down, he noticed a pair of black, polished leather shoes approach his desk and raised his head.

"Good morning, Tony. Back again?" Michael Cook was standing by Tony's desk, eyeing him carefully.

"Back and recovered, Mr. Cook." Tony replied tonelessly.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

_Yeah. What else do you want? _

Both men just stared at each other for a while. From Michael's stare, it became clear to Tony what Michael was looking for long before his boss spoke again and asked, "How are you doing otherwise?"

_Not again. _Tony crossed his arms at his chest. "Why?"

"I've heard you missed a few days of work before this..."

_No need to ask where you heard that._ Tony thought.

"…so I just wanted to check if everything's okay."

Tony neither looked away nor frowned. "I'm fine," he said, clenching his right fist that was underneath his left arm and therefore hidden from Michael's view. _They've been lobbying against me. Of course. How could I expect anything else_. Then he added, "There's nothing to worry about."

Michael stood where he was just a little while longer. Then he nodded slightly. "Okay." He then handed a stack of CD-Rs to Tony. "Can you make sure these are properly implemented in the system?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

Then Michael returned to his office.

**Day 64**

Tony came out of the restroom, having splashed water on his face. The relief was temporary, and his head was still throbbing, like it had been all day. He cursed himself for not taking something for it in the morning. Ok, noon. That's when he came to work, straight from the shabby bar four blocks down. Come to think of it, he couldn't have taken one, even if he'd remembered to. He didn't have any aspirin. He simply wasn't used to thinking about that stuff, he had Michelle for that. At CTU she always kept a bottle of Advil in her personal drawer, so he could always take one if he happened to need it. And he did, especially after the 24-hour shifts that the entire Counter Terrorist Unit was condemned to from time to time. He never even thought about getting a bottle to store in his own desk when he started his new job. But these recent headaches and hangovers might eventually get him to do just that. Eventually.

He was about to head to the office again when Andy and Cory walked out of the break room. When they saw Tony in the hallway, they halted and stopped talking. Tony hesitated just a second, but then strolled towards the two. _Time to talk a few things through_. He crossed his arms at his chest, locking eyes with Andy, who seemed to him like the weakest link in the gang. "Where's Esther?"

Andy shook his head. "I dunno."

_You're a bad liar_. "Come on, don't give me that shit. Where is she?"

"I dunno."

Cory took a step closer to Tony, taking off his baseball cap. His nose still looked a little crooked from their last encounter a while back and the anger in his eyes clearly showed he hadn't forgotten. "She's sick," he replied for Andy.

"For three weeks?" Tony gave him a hard look. "Somehow I find that hard to believe. What did you bastards do to her?"

Cory tossed his cap to the floor. At that moment, the break room door opened and Robin and Nathan walked out. Obviously having heard the question, Robin answered it, "She's on vacation."

Tony ignored Cory and stepped up to Robin while his hands wandered to his hips. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah. Now get out of my way."

Robin tried to walk past Tony but Tony didn't move. "Funny, she didn't say anything about a vacation to me." It wasn't completely true but they were lying too, so what the hell.

Nathan stepped to Tony, removing his glasses from his nose and put them in a breast pocket. "Why, is the bitch running everything by you otherwise?"

"Get out of my face, you moron." Tony pushed the chubby geek away.

Nathan pushed Tony back. "Who are you calling a moron?"

Tony shoved him one more time, this time more strongly. "Back off!"

Nathan landed in Robin, who caught him and launched him towards Tony like a punching ball. The strength of the push and Nathan's 200 pounds of weight threw Tony off balance, though he'd been prepared for it, so he hit the wall, crushed between the concrete and the human keg for a second. Shoving Nathan towards Robin again with all his strength, Tony gave himself space to get away from the wall and a chance to breathe in.

As soon as Nathan's body wasn't hiding Tony any longer, Andy's fist flew towards Tony's face. Tony ducked to avoid it and Andy hit the wall instead but with the distraction Tony saw Cory's fist a split second too late and it caught him on the cheekbone. Despite the momentary darkness before his eyes, Tony grabbed Cory's burning red hair and punched him back, getting rid of him for a moment. While Cory was recovering from the blow, a furious Nathan ran into Tony with a shout, again squashing him against the wall. This time, he knocked the wind out of Tony. A little dizzy, back and head hurting from the impact, Tony stood still as Nathan retreated and tried to regain his breath and balance; the moment at least four hands pulled him away from the wall, he figured he was on the losing end.

"You son of a bitch." he heard Cory's voice. "You're so gonna pay for breaking my nose."

Whoever was holding his arms, they made sure Tony couldn't block Cory's next blow. They only let go of him when pain flared up in Tony's head. _Damn you. _Tony barely had time to open his eyes when punches began to land in his stomach, and pretty soon he felt the wall behind him again. _Ok, four to one. But they're not trained. Maybe I can do this. _He tried to crouch lower and pulled his head towards his shoulders. He managed to block Andy's blow and push him back and off balance with his forearm. _I have to get away from the wall again. Damn, my ribs._

He grabbed a fist aimed at his head and pulled so that the momentum shifted and he was able to hit the attacker with his elbow. Judging by the raspy gasps and cough that followed, he concluded it was Robin he'd hit in the throat. _Not so easy to breathe after this, is it, _he thought, almost satisfied.

Tony's joy was short-lived. Strong arms grabbed him again. Robin croaked, "Get him in there."

The restroom door swung open and Tony was shoved inside. Free for a split second, he regained his footing and just about had the time to realize where everyone was when they converged on him again like a pack of wolves.

Tony's instincts resurfaced. _I need to get them where I can see all of them._ His eyes wandered around the room vigilantly. Andy and Nathan were to his front, Cory and Robin to his back. _Bad start. I don't want them behind me. ­_Someone grabbed him in a chokehold. Tony reacted instinctively, bringing his flat palm back, hitting someone between the legs. Undistracted by the groan that followed, he lifted his elbow, bringing it to the man's jaw. Feeling the hold loosen, Tony turned and grabbed the arm holding him and pushed the man away to his front, himself taking a step to the side. _Cory, I should've known. Idiot._

_Where are they? _He looked at Cory gasping for breath on the ground and then glimpsed at Nathan and Andy to see if they were coming at him. Momentarily focusing on them, he wasn't watching the ex Air Force Staff Sergeant, who was now beside him. This momentary lapse was all the time that Robin needed. A fierce kick, aimed just above Tony's calves sent Tony to the floor and to his knees.

The three men were around him too quickly and kicks began to land in Tony's stomach and chest. Robin kicked him below a shoulder blade, sending him to his stomach. _Damn, this isn't good. I need to turn on my back_. But as the kicks continued, Tony realized there was nothing he could do to defend himself but simply pull his arms up to his face to protect it and speculate they wouldn't beat him to hospital.

With a loud groan, Cory had managed to get on his feet, and staggered over to the rest of the mob, who made place for him close to Tony's head. Tony didn't see any of this, nor did he consciously register Cory calling him an asshole, but when the youngster raised his foot to bring his shoe down on Tony's shoulder, Tony saw the movement from the corner of his eye and managed to make a quick quarter of a turn, rolling out of the way just in time so that Cory's foot landed hard on the tiled floor.

"Aaah!" Cory cried out. "Damn it!"

Tony grabbed Cory's foot and pushed it away as best as he could from the awkward position. _Come on. Give me just another quarter of a turn_, he thought. Then he would be on his back, maybe able to fight. But it was Robin's next kick aimed at his stomach that literally knocked all air out of him; Tony curled into a ball. If he had eaten lunch, he would be seeing it again now.

Tony didn't count the kicks that battered his defenseless body thereafter, but they were coming from all sides. Mercifully, it didn't last too long. Someone must have ordered the geeks to stop because the kicks ceased, all of a sudden.

Tony lay on the floor, aching and disoriented, arms wrapped around his stomach and sides, knees pulled up as far as he could. "Get him." Robin ordered Andy and Nathan. The two men grabbed Tony's arms, dragged him to the stall on the far right of the restroom, then stuck Tony's head into the toilet.

"Now listen to me, you treasonous bastard." Robin said. "If you don't quit voluntarily, things will become a lot more unpleasant."

Cory was sitting on the tiled floor of the restroom, by the sinks, leaning on the wall, holding his crotch while grimacing in pain. But he managed a satisfied grin as Robin flushed the toilet and then Andy and Nathan let go of Tony, leaving him face down in the bowl.

While the others went to the sinks to wash up, Tony supported himself on the ceramic, coughing the water out. _Son of a bitch. How could I let this happen?_

"You ok?" he heard Robin check up on Cory.

"The son of a bitch really got me." Cory whined.

Robin squeezed his shoulder, then helped him get up. "We got to him worse. You'll be fine."

Cory just moaned in pain once more but didn't reply. Water flowed a couple more minutes, and finally, Robin's Clan left the restroom.

When the door closed, Tony lowered himself onto the cold tiled floor of the stall, now allowing himself to groan at the pain that was all too familiar to him. _Damn it. A rookie mistake. Don't focus on a single spot or tunnel vision will get you_, he cursed at his elementary error that had earned him another beating.

"God, I hate them." He kicked the divider between the stalls out of frustration. Turning to his side, he tried to recover, spitting out more disgusting water onto the floor.

A similar scene resurfaced in his mind, the beating he took in much the same way from Ragen several weeks ago. The ruthless, rogue, ex-military man who had no intention of keeping Tony alive, had given Tony a broken rib, ruptured spleen and other things he didn't want to remember. When it was all over, he'd barely gotten away with his life. Fear gripped him. _The injuries. They could have reopened._

Tony concentrated on his body's signals, trying to assess the damage to it. His breathing had normalized. His head had been throbbing even before Cory threw the first punch. The throbbing had quickly turned into unrelenting pain. His cheeks and the back of his head burned. Most parts of his body were aching, but it wasn't worse than what he'd been through in prison. Nathan and the others had not planned to beat him to death, unlike others before them. _I have to know what this did to me._ Fighting against the dread that surfaced in his mind, Tony forced himself to take a deep breath. He breathed out with relief. The pain the breathing caused in his chest was just pain and not fire. _Good, my ribs seem to have stayed intact this time_. Then he slowly shut and locked the cubicle door in case someone else walked in.

Twenty minutes later, having washed his face and rinsed his mouth at least a dozen times, he walked out of the restroom and strode into the now deserted office; deserted, except for the Clan. He stoically stayed upright, even though every move caused him pain, and held Robin's killing glare as he crossed the room and eventually took a seat by his own desk. Still keeping eye contact with Robin, Tony logged onto the computer and got back to work.

--

He waited until everyone from Robin's gang left before he allowed himself to take a break. Leaning in the chair, he glanced at his wrist watch. Ten-fifteen. _They did their best to stay as long as they could, to be the last ones to go. Beat them there._

He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. _Son of a bitch, this keeps getting worse. I need a drink._

_No, no. Booze will make the headache worse in the morning._

_But it'll dull the pain tonight._

"Aah, damn it." he swore out of frustration.

_You've got to get home. _

_Michelle will still be awake. I can't face her like this._

Tony sighed and decided, _Work hours are over, though_.

He shut down the computer, pushed the chair away from the desk enough to put his feet on the tabletop and lean into the chair again. He massaged the back of his neck briefly, then pressed his eyes shut. _Just wait a little longer. Then go._

--

When Tony arrived home, he closed the door quietly. _Hopefully she's in bed by now. __One tongue lashing was enough for today. I don't need another one, not from her._

Cursing softly at the pain that moving caused, he tossed his jacket on the rack, threw the shoes off his feet and began to slowly stagger away from the door. _Damn, I'm walking like granpa._ He swore inwardly, starting towards the downstairs bathroom. Once there, Tony locked the door behind him and surveyed his face in the mirror. A purple, bloody bruise had already formed from his left temple down to his cheek. Moving his cheek muscles, he winced, remembering the jarring feeling in his brain as the fist first connected with his temple. _Well, at least I got to them too, even if only a little. And that bastard Cory has a sore fist_, he mused.

Tony sighed and peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the laundry basket. Taking count of the bruises on his body, he sighed. _I'm gonna be hurting for a few days. Nothing I can do about that. _At least no bones seemed to be broken, thankfully so. He would just have to wait for everything to heal on its own. More time in the hospital was completely out of the question.

He sighed again loudly, rubbing his other cheek, finished undressing, then turned on the shower. Getting under the hot spray, he let the water massage his body, and somewhat his ego, too. _How in the hell did I let that pack of geeks get me like that? Son of a bitch_.

_There's nothing you could have done against four of them. They had you cornered too fast. _

_I'm supposed to know how to fend off attackers._

He couldn't wait to shampoo his hair and face; the flush from the toilet was still clinging to him. He took twice the normal amount of shampoo, massaging it into thick foam and relished in the feeling. It would wash the dirt off his body but wouldn't take his anger away.

_Just how long is this going to haunt me? _he mused._ I made a mistake and I suffered the consequences. _

_Mistake? Saving Michelle's life wasn't a mistake! _

_But caving in to Saunders' s demands was…_

_Was it worth all this? I'll always be a traitor in people's eyes. No matter what happens. Even to Michelle._

Leaning his head against the tiles, he sighed and turned the shower to the maximum, the water pounding on his shoulders like heavy rainfall. Exhaustion was creeping in. He wished he could just fall asleep on the spot, but even if he could - sleep hadn't been his friend, nothing was. Even the water seemed to dislike him as it began to get cooler. He adjusted the temperature until the water steamed. The air in the shower grew heavy and hot, like in a sauna, which Tony found helpful as he attempted to relax again.

Twenty-five minutes later he heard a knock on the door.

"Tony?" Michelle's voice called from the other side.

_Oh, damn. She's awake._

_Well, I probably woke her up, _he concluded.

"Tony?"

Eventually, he turned off the shower and mumbled a faint, "Yeah, I'm here."

Then he stepped out of the shower, rubbed his hair with a white towel, then adjusted it around his hips, moving without any rush whatsoever.

"Are you all right?" Michelle asked, not touching the door. "You had that shower running for a long time."

"I'm fine." Tony said tersely, closing a cut above his left eye with a butterfly strip.

"Where have you been since Wednesday? You haven't been at home, I couldn't reach you at work, you haven't been answering your cell phone…"

_I knew she'd say that, _he thought but didn't reply. He traced the outline of a big bruise on his right side before pulling the beat-up work shirt back on, so he could at least partly hide the traces of the uneven battle from Michelle.

"Tony?" There was helplessness in her voice. Michelle hated feeling helpless, just like he did. But he took his time buttoning the shirt and gave himself one last disgusted look in the mirror. _I look like a bum off the street. _Michelle didn't say anything further, but he felt her presence through the door. She was there, waiting. Waiting for explanations that he wasn't willing to give. With a sigh, he finally turned off the light in the bathroom before unlocking the door. _Come hell or high water_.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he found himself face to face with Michelle, as expected. She was blocking the way, so he stood there, allowing her time to take in his appearance. It didn't take long before she audibly gasped. "Oh my God, Tony, what happened to you?"

_Go away_, he thought, looking past Michelle. "Nothing."

She didn't buy it. "No, no, no, no, don't. You got into a fight. Did they hurt you? Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

Tony moved to pass by her but Michelle raised her hand and pressed her palm against his chest, an action that elicited a stern look from him. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to tell me what happened right now."

Although her hand put pressure on the freshly bruised area, he stared her down, not moving a muscle. "Or what?"

_God knows I've had enough Q&A today._

Neither of them dared break the silence that followed, not even by breathing. Their eyes remained locked, and while Michelle's slowly resigned, Tony's grew cold. Eventually, Michelle sighed, lowering her arm. "Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?"

"Oh, so now everything is my fault, is it?" Tony retorted evenly, turning towards her. His voice lowered, he sneered, "I'm the one to blame, am I?"

"Tony -"

"Shut up!" Tony spat, grabbing her left arm. "Don't even try, Michelle. I know what you think. I had it coming after I was released from Lompoc, right? And why wouldn't you? You were working with Hammond and Knoll. You're one of them, you've been from the start." he growled.

Michelle abruptly pulled her arm out of his grip. "How could you even think that? Through everything that's happened, _I _was the one who stood by you! I got Hammond off your back!"

Tony slammed his fist against the wall behind Michelle's head. "Like hell you did! _Jack's_ evidence got me out!"

Michelle's eyes widened, she flinched and backed up. Tony's hand stayed put behind her head, his eyes burning with anger. "You were Hammond's second in command, you had the authority to relieve him of duty if you thought he stepped out of line." His voice got lower and sharper with each word. Stepping up to her, almost touching her body with his, he whispered, "But you - did - _not_."

Michelle reflexively started to push him away, but Tony grabbed her wrists. She shook him off, freeing her hands, then pointed a finger right at his face and at this moment, the trace of fear that had been in Michelle's eyes disappeared."Listen to me, Tony." she began in a composed voice. "I _never _blamed you for making the decision to let Saunders escape. It's not what I would have wanted you to do but you made the choice and _I__did _stand by you."

Tony let out a sarcastic laugh. _Bitch. Here we go again. _

Michelle didn't let him interrupt. "I_ trusted_ you. I did. Right now I can only imagine what you're going through since you're not talking to me. I've given up on that. I won't push you to talk. But I still want to trust you. The only thing I'm asking of you is to trust me in return. Cause if-"

"Trust me? You _want _to trust me?" Tony scoffed. "Whatever _trust_ we had seems to have died a long time ago."

He paused. His glare was full of contempt. The hurt in Michelle's eyes was apparent, but Tony felt nothing. He boxed her in with his palms on the wall behind her. Then he leaned in to her, slowly. His mouth approached her nose, then her cheek, as if he were about to give her a kiss, but then moved sideways and almost touched her ear. "Consider what you say about my past decisions, Michelle." he said in an icy voice. "You're not the first to make that mistake."

Michelle's eyes closed, and when they opened again, they were watery. She didn't look at his face; instead, she stared past him and leaned the whole surface of her back onto the wall behind her, seeking support. She squeezed her eyes shut firmly when the first tear rolled off her face.

Tony stood there a few more moments, watching her cry. _You can cry all you want. You won't get me to apologize this time. I'm no longer your puppet._ Then he backed off and turned to leave, giving her one last spiteful glance.

He was four steps away when Michelle whispered softly, "Maybe you should have let Saunders kill me."

Tony stopped in his tracks, his back to her. The hair on his neck stood for a moment. He heard her sniffle and try to suppress a sob. There was a time when her crying would break his heart. Now, he didn't move or turn to her; he just stared at the staircase ahead.

Then he walked away.

**Day 66**

Three tall red candles stood in a brass candleholder in the middle of a six foot long, granite table. Their flames flickered almost in sync, like a trio of dancing ballerinas. A row of French windows mirroring their stage led to a balcony large enough for both the CTU Field Ops and Comm departments to jointly throw a Christmas party there. One of the doors to the outside was slightly ajar, allowing the crisp night air in. The sky was moonless and seemingly black, the stars obscured by LA city lights.

A red and grey hand-woven rug, ten feet long, stretched into the living room, bridging the dining table and the small coffee table that stood between the soft, red leather couch and the two matching chairs at the far end of the elegantly furnished room. Michelle was sitting on the couch, her legs curled underneath her. She held a cup of coffee in both her hands, staring out of the window to her right. Her curly mane was falling freely onto her crimson silk blouse, the top two buttons of which were open. Clanking sounds of dishwashing were coming from the kitchen, and she sat quietly until they stopped. When she heard footsteps close by, she slowly turned towards the sound. Bill Buchanan was approaching from her left, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

"Much better, thanks." she replied with a tense smile. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"Well, I'm glad we were able to fix that." Bill smiled, setting his coffee cup on the oval table in front of the couch. "Cold?" he asked again, briefly glancing at the open door and back at Michelle.

"No. The air is fine."

Bill sat down next to her and took a sip of the coffee. Michelle tasted hers. Neither of them spoke for a while nor did they dare look at the other. The silence had almost grown awkward when Bill finally cleared his throat, then questioned, "So, how are things at home now?"

Michelle played with the cup in her hand, slowly turning it around its vertical axis twice before she replied, "Not good."

Bill could have asked for a more specific explanation, but he knew it would come on its own, so he just waited. He didn't have to wait long. Michelle heaved a sigh before placing her cup on the table. "You know, earlier on the day Tony proposed to me, he actually prevented an armed robbery at this small Deli store that belongs to a friend of Tony's family. He took him on, by himself. He stood between the robber and the Deli owner, fearless, and I was there, watching from the aisles, and I remember thinking, _don't play a hero_. But then I realized, _this is Tony, my Tony_. He has this instinct to protect everyone he cares about, regardless of the cost, and that's something he can't get rid of, even if he tried to. It's in his blood, this protective behavior. That's what interferes with a lot of his actions. That's what put him in prison. And that's... that's why he won't talk to me about whatever's eating away at him."

She paused and began to absent-mindedly shift the wedding band up and down on her ring finger. "But now, I'm not sure if he even has any feelings left for me, anything positive, anyway... I mean, things calmed down a little in between, when I stayed home with him while he was sick, but since then, it's only gotten worse." she admitted. "I don't know how he's managed to keep the job for this long. He's constantly drinking. He's getting into fights. Just the other day, he came home, beaten and bruised. He was so angry and aggressive like I've never seen him before."

Alarm bells went off in Bill's head and he turned his body towards her. "Michelle, tell me the truth... Is he hurting you? Has he hit you?"

"No." She underlined her answer with a decisive head motion. "I don't think he would ever hit me... But lately he's been saying cruel things, like he doing his best to hurt me in other ways."

Bill took her hand. "Has he threatened you?"

Michelle looked away, then replied quietly, "No."

_He has. And she's still defending him,_ Bill thought, caressing her palm with his thumb. "Michelle..."

"No. He hasn't." she lied, looking at Bill now. "It's just that... He's not himself."

"Are you so sure? Maybe this is the real Tony. Maybe you just didn't see it before."

"No. Something's wrong."

"He's a drunk. That's what's wrong." Bill said pointedly.

"I don't know... There is something else that brought him here... When the doctor came by the other day, he talked to Tony in private and I got this feeling there was something I was not being told. Tony should deal with this somehow, he should probably see a psychiatrist but it's like trying to make a mule walk," she sneered at her own wording. "What I do know is that all this has changed him. He's not the man I married."

"Do you think he's cheating on you?" Bill asked cautiously.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "It would be hard for me to believe he could, but now..." She picked up the coffee cup from the table again, but didn't drink. "I mean, I don't know what he's doing when he's away. I have no idea where he stays. I used to think he'd never do that to me but..." She sighed and quietly continued, "Honestly, it's come to the point where I just don't know what to do."

_She doesn't know about Esther Wagner then. It's better if it stays that way. But that bastard really doesn't even deserve her. _Bill then looked her in the eye. "Well, there aren't that many options."

"I know." Michelle nodded. "I thought about leaving, months ago. But he saved my life, Bill. He went to prison _for me_. All this started there. And then this whole thing with Hammond... Brad was my superior but I could have done something. I didn't, not for a few hours. I haven't been able to stop Brad and Tony died, so I just feel..." She let out a short breath, then corrected herself, "I felt like I owed him to stay."

"No, you don't," Bill said simply. "Michelle, you've done all you could. You've tried. The choices Tony makes are his responsibility, not yours. You can't live his life. You can't help him if he won't help himself. You've got to take care of yourself now."

Michelle nodded, and it took her three slow breaths to comment. "It just scares me to go down that road. Especially with the pain he's in. I don't know if he could take it."

"Yes, he's hurting." Bill nodded, "But so are you. And you don't deserve that. Not from him. He's supposed to be the guy that takes your pain away, not the one causing it."

Michelle sighed, but didn't reply.

"Look," Bill finally said, "I'm not saying that these things are ever easy or that you'll instantly be doing fine if you do leave - I know you won't - but you have to do _something_. You can't keep this up. You're not sleeping, you suffer from nightmares, you're stressed out... " He tried to look her in the eye but she was looking at the floor. "Michelle, I'm your friend. I understand your situation fully, and I know you better than to say this is your normal self. But I'm also SAC... " He paused before saying in a low voice, "I don't want to sound harsh, but there's only so much I can do to cover for you at work... You know the rules... Someone will eventually say the right thing to the wrong people and then-"

"I know." she interrupted him, finally locking eyes with him. "And I know I'm not working at full capacity. I appreciate your support." Her voice was suddenly no longer that of Mrs. Tony Almeida but that of Deputy SAC Michelle Dessler. "There's one more thing I could try. If that fails, I might not have a choice." she whispered.

Bill nodded, but didn't ask what she had in mind. Then Michelle took a long breath. "I guess I'd better get going," she said, standing up from the couch. Heading to the door, she collected her purse from the chair by the dining table and hugged Bill goodbye. "Good night, and thank you."

"I hope I helped," he said, letting go of her and she called the elevator. "See you Monday. Night," he added when the door opened. Michelle disappeared in the elevator.

--

Michelle was sitting on her bed, alone in the upstairs bedroom again. The small lamp on the nightstand was on, and she hadn't even undressed yet. She was waiting for something, although what she was waiting for was pointless. Night had fallen outside hours ago, but Tony hadn't returned home. She hadn't tried to reach him; he wouldn't have picked up anyway. She'd stopped asking questions. He never had any anwers.

Nothing felt right and she had lost hope that it would ever feel right again. Tony lived on alcohol and the only time he slept was when he passed out drinking. As much as she loved him, as much as his pain hurt her, too, as much as she hated what Tony was doing to himself, she couldn't sit around and watch him drink himself to death.

Finally, she made a decision. With a sigh, she reached for her cell phone and dialed a number. When the caller on the other end picked up, she simply said, "Hey. It's Michelle."


	24. Esther

**Day 68**

"Morning, Tony."

Tony had just arrived at the office and logged onto the network when the female voice greeted him. _Esther?_ he instantly thought. Raising his eyes from the monitor confirmed it; Esther's blue irises were looking back at him. They were sad for a moment but then Esther flashed a smile at him and her eyes began to shine.

"Hey," he returned the greeting and instantly glanced around before sitting up in the chair. "Welcome back. You have a nice vacation?" he said for the benefit of anyone who was listening and slowly stood.

"Yeah, it was okay," she replied. "I had a small family emergency to deal with in the beginning, but everything's okay now."

_Uh-huh._ Tony watched her carefully. She avoided his gaze, glancing at her workstation for a second. She looked different. Her blond hair was a good fifteen inches shorter, falling onto her shoulders, ending just a couple of inches below them, its color contrasting the black silk tank top and blouse she wore. Her mascara was brown rather than black, her lipstick faded rose, and she had hidden her long legs inside ankle-long pants. Her face seemed somehow tired and worn, so tired that Tony thought she seemed a little older, like she'd spent lots of time worrying lately.

Tony remembered her leaving suddenly, without giving anyone any explanations. Word in the office was that her mother had fallen sick, but Tony hadn't exactly been able to make himself believe that. "How have you been? You okay?" he added the latter question in a lower tone of voice, glancing behind her again. Nathan had just arrived and glared at the two of them as he went to his workstation.

"Oh, you know how it is. It always takes some time to adjust after a long vacation." Esther replied, maybe somewhat more jokingly than necessary.

_She won't tell me what really happened, at least not here. I know they sent her away, I just don't know how. I do know why, though. _Still, he agreed, nodding, "Yeah. Four weeks is a long time."

"Why, did you miss me?" she winked at him with a grin.

_Well, I did miss an ally_, he admitted to himself but chose not to reply, not verbally anyway. Instead he laughed with her until she went back to her own desk and sat down at it to start up her computer.

--

Tony brought a thick stack of folders to his desk and put it down with a thud. _Time for a dose of coffee, _he decided and grabbed the black mug that stood on the desk. Faded remains of a seal could hardly be discerned on the mug after years of dishwasher treatment, and Tony had no idea who the mug belonged to, but he'd taken Cubby home and left it there, and since then he'd been using whatever mug he could find in the break room cupboards, he didn't really care.

A second later, he was on his way to the break room that did triple duty as a meeting point, a place to read the paper (though Tony would doubtlessly get weird looks from everyone if he actually sat down for a long break) and as the lunch room. Esther was on the phone and didn't glance up at Tony as he passed by her. Robin's desk was unoccupied, though the screensaver was activated. Nathan followed Tony with his eyes, but Tony ignored him; if he never had to say one word to that geek again, he'd be happy, and he was determined to try. He didn't bother to check where the rest of Robin's gang were, though he couldn't help his vigilance increase the closer he got to the short hallway that harbored the restrooms, the copying room and the break room. As soon as he'd turned his back on the office, he listened closely for steps approaching, reflexively tensing somewhat, and only relaxed his muscles when he reached his destination.

By the time Tony disappeared inside and closed the door behind him, Esther had hung up the phone. She took her mug from her desk and headed the same way Tony had just gone. Before entering the room, she glanced behind her for a second, took a calming breath, then opened the door.

Adrenaline shot through Tony's body as the door squeaked open and he glanced towards it tensely. _Can't I have a moment of... Oh._

Esther smiled, "Hi."

"Ah, hey." Tony muttered, reciprocating the smile to mask his momentary confusion. But when he turned with the coffee in his hand, he saw she'd noticed it anyway. "Sorry, I guess I wasn't expecting you." he asked casually, taking a sip of steaming coffee from his mug. Then he carefully leaned on the counter, observing Esther.

"Whom did you expect?" she asked from the door, not yet really stepping further into the room.

Tony shrugged. "No-one really."

As if it were her cue, Esther gestured towards the coffee maker with her empty mug, and moved away from the door. While she was walking up to the counter, Tony noted her fruity perfume rising into his nostrils but stayed put. After feeding her cup, Esther held it in both hands, still facing the coffee maker, not Tony. Finally, she cleared her throat before quietly asking, "How are _you,_Tony?"

Tony took another sip of his coffee. "I'm fine..." he lied, nodding, and instantly changing the topic. "So, what was that family emergency of yours all about?"

"Oh that's family business, you know. Wouldn't be right to talk about it," she said, turning away, "but the vacation part was good."

"Yeah? What did you do?" Tony's eyebrows rose doubtfully, underlining the question.

"Oh, lots of things." Now Esther took her first sip of the coffee. "Got to do some shopping, relax..."

_Why is she so evasive? She seems nervous. Something's off, _ Tony thought.

Esther sat down on a chair by the square table that stood in the middle of the room. Three other chairs stood at each of the sides of the table, and she gestured to the one on her right, closest to her own. "Have a seat."

Tony gave a small sigh, glancing at the door again. _Will they actually give me a few minutes of peace? Almost hard to believe_,he thought, but then followed Esther's lead and sat down to the table. "So, where did you go?_"_

"Oh, here and there. You know, just enjoying myself."

"Well, what'd you do? Travel around or did you spend all your time at the mall?" he pressed on, adding a small grin to his expression so as not to seem inquisitive.

But it must have been, because Esther questioned back: "Why?" Then, as she slowly took another sip of her coffee, her eyes found Tony's and focused on them.

Tony kept quiet for a moment. Esther's intense gaze made him sit up in the chair, clear his throat, and let go off the mug. "No particular reason, just asking," he finally replied, leaning back.

Esther soundlessly put her mug on the table, brushing Tony's arm slightly as she did so. She never glanced away from him, while she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "You know..." she began, "It's not about where I've been."

Tony slowly pulled his arm back. "What do you mean?"

"The important thing is..." Esther's knee softly touched Tony's underneath the table. "I realized something while I was gone." she said, now turning her upper body towards him fully. "I missed you."

_What?_Tony raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. "Esther..." he sighed awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

"No, I really did," she affirmed. She wiggled her foot out of the shoe, and her toes slowly began to crawl up Tony's shoe, to his ankle.

Tony suddenly pulled his foot back. _What the hell is going on here?_

In the meantime, Esther continued whispering. "And I realized something else," she ran a hand up his forearm gently. "Life's too short to miss out on the best things."

Tony pushed her hand off his arm and looked her straight in the eye. "I'm married," he said firmly. _And you know that!_

For a moment, Esther seemed to back off, but then took her hair in both her hands and moved it like a ponytail to the side of her head, exposing her neck on the left. Her bare foot had again found Tony's calf when, with a knowing look aimed at him, she whispered, "Happily?"

_Ouch. That hurt._ The dagger had gone straight for Tony's heart, causing a flash of pain to reach his eyes before it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. _Why am I still sitting here_, he thought for a second, but remained glued to the chair, for some reason feeling unable to move. Instead, he only averted his glance, staring blankly at the table in front of him.

With a sigh, Esther moved both coffee mugs out of the way. She leaned in, close, and Tony led his eyes up. It was a mistake he instantly regretted because, without delay, Esther's two deep blue lakes turned into Medusa's hypnotizing stare, in turn keeping him unable to shift his gaze from them, beginning to pull him under like live sand. The closer they were, the more intoxicating the scent or her perfume got, and Tony found himself dragged into it ever stronger. He suddenly became aware of her silky smooth hand gliding onto his palm; he felt her squeeze his fingers gently. Never breaking eye contact, Esther drew nearer, slowly, until her nose almost touched Tony's. But then, as if awakened from a trance, Tony urgently grabbed her shoulder, stopping her continuing approach just two inches away from his mouth and pushed her to an arm's length.

"No. Don't."

Though he'd forced her to back off, instead of letting go, Esther put both her hands on Tony's shoulders and then his neck. "Come on, no-one needs to know," she urged him, her thumbs caressing the soft stubble on his cheeks.

Tony took both her wrists in his hands, immobilizing her. Looking her in the eye, he stated firmly, "I would."

Esther sighed slightly, but then without a warning, she shut her eyes and pulled him closer, hands on his neck, and before he could react, her strawberry-flavored, marshmallow-soft lips were kissing him passionately.

_What... I... _Too stunned to make any deliberate movements for a couple of seconds, Tony did nothing but reflexively return the kiss before what was going on actually sank in. But when Esther's tongue probed his teeth, Tony broke the kiss, pushed her away again and stood.

"Stop. I can't do this, I won't." he told her evenly. "I'm married."

Esther glared at him for a few seconds, but then her eyes began to well up, and she looked away. Pushing her chair back, she whispered, "I'm sorry," and then quickly rushed out of the break room.

Tony didn't turn to watch her leave, but when the door closed, he passed a hand over his face, over his mouth. Her sweet taste was still clinging on to him but it seemed disgusting and was making him sick._What the hell just happened? _

He wiped his cheeks with both his hands, trying to get rid of her; her lip gloss stuck to his palm as he tried to clean his lips without licking them, not wanting to absorb any more of her than he already has. _Why did she kiss me?_

He grabbed a kleenex from a box on the table, wiped his palm clean with it._ I never tried to seduce her. I told her I loved my wife. I've never given her any reason to believe otherwise. _Tossing the curled up kleenex ball to the trash basket across the room, he sighed and leaned his head in his hands. _Why the hell did I let this happen? __Oh for God's sake. This can't be real._

He recalled seeing her in the office that morning; the changes he had noticed in her, the way she averted her eyes from him when he first saw her, the evasive answers to his questions about her vacation, the forced joking tone in her voice, her nervousness throughout the day and now she kissed him out of the blue. He sighed through his fingers. _She was lying to me about the vacation; I know they had made her leave, they'd kept her away... _Slowly, Tony sat down in the chair, leaning his forearms on his knees._ They kept her away - until now_, he realized. _Why now?_

Only an hour ago, Robin had been standing by the fax machine when Esther passed by the copying room. The look Robin had given Esther at that moment hadn't escaped Tony's attention. It had seemed so out of place then. Five minutes later, Robin had disappeared and Tony hadn't seen him since.

_They blackmailed her. They have some leverage over her._Tony thought. _They used it to get rid of her temporarily and now they've used it again to coarse her into this. That has to be it_, he decided._ My God, how could I be so stupid?_

_But if that's true_... Tony sat up in the chair, ran his fingers through his hair and sighed loudly. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling and that's when he saw it: a small camera hung in the corner of the break room and a red light on it was blinking. "Son of a bitch..."

A disbelieving grin settled on his face; Tony stood and stepped away from the chair, but his eyes stayed on the camera. "Son of a bitch."

He glanced at the table; Esther's lipstick stain laughed at him from her coffee mug. "Son of a bitch!"

Esther was at her desk again, sitting by the computer. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing gibberish strings into the terminal. Her eyes were slightly red, as was the tip of her nose, and her pupils wouldn't focus on the monitor in front of her. When a loud, shattering sound came from within the break room, she abruptly turned her head towards it.

Only a second later, Tony stormed out of the break room, slamming the door shut. He quickly marched down the hall and strode directly towards Esther's desk. When she saw him enter the office, Esther brushed her hair behind her ears. She didn't take her eyes off Tony, although Nathan was staring at her from his own desk. While he approached, she stood, leaning her hands on the back of her chair. Finally, Tony installed himself between her desk and Nathan's, but looked at Esther as he crossed his arms at his chest, and simply stated, "Tell me about it."

"About what?" Esther tried to dodge the question.

"What is Robin holding against you?"

"What?"

"Please, don't lie to me."

"Lie-"

"They made you come on to me, didn't they?"

Nathan interjected, "Get out of here, Almeida."

Tony turned only his head towards Nathan before yelling, "You stay out of it, you son of a bitch!"

"Screw you!"

By now, several people, including Felix and Andy, had gathered around. While Andy stopped right by Nathan's desk, Felix strode towards Tony. From behind, Robin appeared, pushing his way through his co-workers. "Almeida!"

Hearing the abhorred voice behind him, Tony lunged towards the sound, grabbing Robin by the throat and pushing him against the wall. "What have you done to her? Tell me what you've done!" Tony yelled.

Robin didn't actually move, but Tony soon felt four hands pulling him away from Robin. Two of them were too small and gentle to be male. "Tony, let go, please, let go." It was Esther who urged him, while she tried to force him to loosen his grip on Robin's throat. Meanwhile, Felix came from behind and pulled on Tony's upper body. "Come on, Tony, let go."

Trying to ignore both of them, Tony held on, choking Robin, but eventually, Felix pulled him back.

Robin rubbed his throat and backed up from the wall. "You're crazy, Almeida! A crazy drunk prick!"

"Shut up, Robin!" Felix shouted, pulled a chair closer and shoved Tony in there, then kept him in place by pushing down on his shoulders. "Calm down, Tony.

Tony breathed like he'd just run a marathon. "That asshole! I'll kill him!"

"Calm down, take it easy. Calm down."

"D'you hear me?!"

"Calm down. I'll handle this. I'll handle this. Trust me. I'll handle this."

"I'll kill him!"

All the office onlookers had gathered around now. Esther stood a few steps further away now; when Tony looked calm enough to stay put, a tear rolled down her cheek. She covered her mouth with both her hands and quietly whispered, "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Then she ran into the restroom.

Finally, Michael Cook appeared among his staff, who made way for him to walk through. He looked at Tony, whose eyes were still spitting fire, Robin, rubbing his neck, Felix, holding Tony down in the chair. "What's going on here?"

"It's okay, Michael," Robin even managed a fake smile. "Everything's ok."

"That won't do" Michael shook his head. "What happened?"

Robin shrugged, feigning innocence. "Almeida attacked me out of nowhere. But Felix took him off me."

"That's not true!" Tony shouted. "You've been making my life hell from the beginning! And then you turned against Esther! You used her for your dirty games!"

"Tony, don't. I'll take care of this," Felix tried, but was silenced by Michael.

"Quiet, please. Robin, take a walk!" Michael waited for Robin to move away, then asked, "Tony, have you been drinking again?"

_That has nothing to do with this,_ Tony thought, but apart from labored breathing, he gave no answer.

"That's it." Michael said conclusively. "Tony, I gave you a chance here, more than one chance. I can't have any more of this." He paused, as if hesitating, but then breathed out loudly and quickly. "You have ten minutes to clear out your desk."

Tony's face had only contempt to show. _They win._

Felix's eyes opened wide, and he stepped up to Michael. "Michael, don't do this."

"I can't have people beating each other up in the middle of the office! Whatever this is all about, it stops NOW!" Michael replied, and gave Tony a long look. "I'm sorry, Tony... Good luck," Michael finished and turned around. "The show is over, people. I want everyone else back at work in five."

As Michael headed to the stairs leading to his office, Felix caught up with him. "Michael, this isn't right. I need to talk to you," Felix said quietly.

"Not now."

"It has to be now."

Michael stopped and looked at Felix for a while. Then he agreed. "Give me a couple minutes and come upstairs."

"Thanks. I'll check up on Esther and be right up."

Meanwhile, Robin had gone inside the break room. One black mug half full of black coffee stood on the table. A dark puddle and many shards lay on the floor. Robin looked up to where the camera was. The camera's lense was broken, and what was left of the camera was dripping with coffee. Robin only smirked and left the room.

--

The plastic box Tony had put his personal belongings into wasn't larger than a shoe box and contained only a few items. It lay on the reception desk while Tony handed his key card to the security guard, signed a form, then collected the box and stepped outside. It was only 2 p.m. and as soon as he left the air conditioned building, the heat squeezed sweat out of his pores and the collar of his shirt seemed to tighten around his neck. Tony crossed the parking lot quickly, unlocking the car door from ten feet away with the remote. A stray cat crawled out from underneath the SUV and ran away when he pulled the door open. He threw both the box and his jacket onto the back seat, slammed the door closed and finally had his hands free to unbutton the three top buttons of his shirt, finally able to take a deep breath. "This damned heat", he sighed, and got into the vehicle. Before starting the engine, he hesitated one moment._Bastard. I should wait for him to leave and beat him to a pulp_, he thought.

_You tried once. Forget about it_, the reasonable side of him objected. With one long, lingering look towards the building, Tony sighed and drove off. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a parking space by the side of the road and entered a dimly lit bar-bar, furnished in brown and black. Weathered guitars and worn leather jackets hung from the ceiling and lined the walls. Faded black and white photographs of past stars of the silver screen lined the walls. Before entering, Tony quickly surveyed the room from one end to the other. Only three men were inside; two occupied a booth and had two empty beer glasses in front of them, and a lone man was sitting at a round table in the corner of the room, talking to his bourbon glass. A fake blonde waitress with wrinkled skin sported a much too tight black mini skirt and a white blouse and almost reluctantly dragged her feet from the bar to the booth, balancing two beers on the tray she was carrying and glanced towards the door as Tony walked in.

Tony marched directly to the end of the twenty feet long oakwood bar and took a seat at the stool there, placing his thick wallet in front of him. Sixty seconds later, a white blouse, unbuttoned to the bra underneath, came into view. "Hi," he heard a greeting come his way and numbly answered, "Hey. Scotch."

"Double?" the woman to whom the view belonged questioned, "You look like you could use it."

Tony laughed bitterly and for the first time looked at the girl in front of him. She couldn't have been more than 30 years old, maybe less than that. She was nothing to write home about; her chest was almost as flat as a plank, her tiny white bra looked somewhat underemployed, her brown hair had no well defined shape apart from a few fringes and it hung loosely to her shoulders. She wore dark make up to cover how expressionless her eyes were, but otherwise all color seemed to have faded from her cheeks. She wore no lipstick and her face had boredom written all over it, spiced with a touch of tiredness. She leaned on the sink that separated her from the bar while she waited for Tony's reply and breathed out loudly.

"Bottle," Tony finally said, slapping a Ben Franklin onto the wooden surface of the bar.

She glanced at the banknote. "Ooh, planning to get plastered today, aren't you?"

"Just get me the damn drink." Tony retorted, seeing no need to explain his reasons to her.

"Hey, fine by me," she waved a hand nonchalantly. "It's your liver."

Tony ignored her comment and just tapped the banknote twice with the middle finger of his right hand.

The woman collected the money, then fetched a glass and a full bottle of Ballentine's and poured Tony a double shot, then set both items down in front of him. Tony grabbed the bottle by the neck and filled the glass almost to the brim. "To your health," he mumbled towards the woman and chug-a-lugged the drink.

--

Tony was slowly rotating the half-empty whiskey glass between his fingers, drawing wet circles on the hardwood. The skinny bartender had just finished wiping the sink with a wet cloth and started to empty the dishwasher when she said in the general direction of Tony, "I'm Jen. What's your name?"

Tony let out a self depriving laugh._ Why do you care?_ he mused before mumbling back, "Failure."

Jen stopped working for a moment and leaned her hands on the counter in front of her. "I see... So you're one of those 'I'm feeling sorry for myself so fill me up' cases, right?"

Tony grimaced after drinking up, his face adopting a bitter expression. "Isn't that why _everyone_ comes to places like this in the middle of the afternoon?"

"S'ppose so," she shrugged.

"Jennie, two Buds, pronto!" the old waitress called.

"Got it." Jen called back, before turning to Tony again. "Look, I gotta tend to the other failures. See ya later, John."

"What?" Tony now raised his eyes and eyebrows, looking at her.

"Well, you need a name, so I'm gonna call you John. You don't look like a John, but who cares."

"Yeah."

Tony grinned at the thought. _Maybe as John I would have become an accountant, lived in the suburbs in a quiet street, a large house with a garden and a view, had kids and a dog and driven a Volvo and none of this would have happened. _He filled the glass again.

_Well, you can still drive a Volvo._

--

A newly arrived group of six young men had increased the noise level in the bar substantially. Tony was in his own world though, not registering nor bothered by them. By now, he'd almost killed the bottle but felt no need to stop yet. From the corner of an eye, he watched Jen fill six glasses with beer and set them on the tray for the waitress to take. He proceeded to stare at his own glass when the barkeeper turned to him and installed herself in front of him. When she said nothing, Tony figured she wanted something, so he finally looked at her and instantly heard her ask, "Want some eats?"

"Yeah." He lifted the bottle for a second before putting it back down. "More of this."

Jen shook her head. "No, I think you've had enough of that for today."

Tony scoffed at her. "Who are you to judge me? I'm not even halfway to Heavington yet." He glanced at the shelves holding the hard drinks. "See that bottle over there? It looks just like the one I got here, see? Get it for me."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, John," Jen said and grabbed two empty beer bottles from the tray the waitress had just brought.

"Tony." he said quietly, rubbing his five-o-clock shadow.

Jen stopped by the open trash can for a moment and gave Tony a look.

"The name's Tony," he repeated, briefly glancing at her. Then his eyes wandered past her before returning to stare at the empty Ballentine's and finally landing on her again. "Now please get me my drink."

Jen stared back at him as if making up her mind but made no move to comply.

"Look, you know I can go outside and get it in a liquor store otherwise," he continued. "Want me to pass out on a park bench instead?"

Jen still didn't move but Tony saw he was getting through to her. It might have been the whiskey but he thought she liked him. And if she did, then she wanted to keep an eye on him. She would cooperate. Sighing, he kept his head low and his hand on the empty glass in front of him. Then, Jen threw the empty beer bottles into the can and left Tony's eyesight.

A minute later, she reappeared with another bottle of whiskey and put it before him on the bar. _Gotcha_, Tony smiled inwardly but didn't lift his eyes or move his head. His strategy had worked. But then, he massaged his hurting forehead, wishing he could just wake up and all this would go away. _How low have I sunk? Manipulating little barkeepers. Screw this life._ He waited for her to fill up his glass but she didn't.

Instead, she asked, "What's going on?" When Tony's only reply was a scoff , she added, "I mean, what pain are you drowning?"

"You don't want to know," Tony said lowly and now poured the remaining contents of the first bottle into the glass, then down his throat.

"Try me."

Tony's face wore another pain-filled grin. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Come on. I'm a good listener. And I can keep a secret."

Tony shrugged. Who really cared if he told her? Was he ashamed? It wasn't like he had much pride left in him anyway. Without even glancing at her, he admitted, "I got fired today."

Jen nodded as if she'd expected something similar. "Did you like the job?"

Tony held on to the glass, rotating it again. "I hated it."

"Well, then, I guess that saying I'm sorry would be superfluous."

Tony paused, slightly bent over the bar, staring at the glass. He grimaced before levelly stating, "I got used, betrayed, humiliated... Beaten... Mobbed..." He shook his head. "Can't sleep. Doc says I got PTSD."

"What's that?" Jen interjected, but Tony didn't hear her.

"To think I used to be a Fed. 'Good morning, Ma'am. Federal Agent Tony Almeida with the Los Angeles Counter Terrorist Unit.' Sounds important, huh?" he grinned but didn't wait for a reply. "I used to be a Marine. Officer. Fighter. A Krav Maga instructor. All these years I gave to my country... They put me in prison and then I end up having to suck up to someone ten years younger than me just to keep a friggin' paperpusher job. And to top it off, these assholes get me fired and I can't do a damn thing about it... Not a goddamn thing."

He fell silent and it took a few seconds before Jen said, "I'm sorry."

Tony nodded. "Yeah."

She leaned her elbows on the bar not far from Tony. Her eyes inspected him carefully. "What did your wife say?"

Tony looked at the wedding band on his ringfinger and just let out a long breath.

"She doesn't know?"

"I don't think she'd care much," he replied, noticed the look in Jen's eyes and frowned. _I hate people pitying me._

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah." Tony sighed loudly, then stood and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. Going funeral drunk worked best on your own.

"Semper Fi, my friend," he told the new scotch bottle as he grabbed her and the glass and slowly staggered towards an empty table in the farthest corner of the room.

**Day 70**

It wasn't that he didn't hear the phone ring. But when he looked at the display of his cell phone, Tony decided not to pick up. A minute or so later, the voice mail had come in. _Whatever it is, I don't want to know_, he thought at first, slid the phone into his jacket again and walked on. But even as his feet walked away, his mind didn't. _Why the hell would Felix be calling me? _

_Who cares. Forget it. Delete the message_.

_Yeah._ Tony grabbed the phone again, ready to do the seemingly reasonable thing._ On the other hand..._ He hit the speed dial and put the phone to his ear.

"Uhm... Hello, Tony, this is Felix, from the company. Sorry to disturb you. Look, I know you have every reason to hate each and every one of us and no-one could blame you if you do. I think you have the right to hear what really happened, so don't hang up just yet, ok? First off, though... This may not mean much to you right now but both I and Esther are really sorry about how all this went down. I should have gone to Michael long ago. I wanted to, but it would have been risky for Esther. Robin held something big over her and she just couldn't -"

The message stopped there but before Tony could even grow frustrated over the lack of information, the phone rang again. _Let's see what really happened_, he thought. "Almeida."

"Tony, hi. I didn't think you'd pick up."

"Just tell me what happened. But don't expect me to talk back."

"Fair enough..." Felix took a long breath, then began to explain. "Okay, in a nutshell, Esther has a brother she was hiding from the authorities and Robin found out. She was an obstacle to his goals so he blackmailed her. Both she and her brother would have gone to jail if she hadn't played along. Eventually, she managed to get her brother out of the country without him being spotted, but not before the day she came back to work. That's why she had to go along with what Robin wanted, even on that day... For what it's worth, Tony, she is really heartbroken. Anyway, uhm, when Michael fired you, Esther and I both went to him to try to change his mind. He didn't, but when he realized what's been going on, he did fire Robin and his entire gang."

"What happened to Esther's brother?"

"He decided he didn't want to live on the run all his life and didn't want to watch his sister go through things like these again. He surrendered himself to the German authorities a couple of days ago."

"So it was all for nothing."

"Only if the Germans can prove Esther was hiding him."

Tony was quiet. _If Robin doesn't help them prove it._

"Well, that's the short version. I hope you see she was just protecting her family. I know you can understand that."

"Yeah. Look, thanks for the call. I got to go."


	25. The final straw

**A/N: **There. Tony and Michelle's story reaches the end before the end of the year. Trust me people, I really wish I could have given ya a happy ending, but really... how realistic would that have been, after everything... Despite all that, I still enjoyed the writing process. Hope most of you enjoyed the reading.

On a different note, this might be my last story. I don't know if I'll be writing any more. Though I do have ideas (and no, they're NOT all sad ;-) ), the passion just isn't there (I know I've read this same sentence in someone else's profile - but it's just so true in my case, too). It might depend on what happens in in season 7 of 24. Let's just hope it doesn't break our hearts again.

Have a Merry Christmas and a happy new year :-)

**edit: **please note that I've posted chapter 24 and chapter 25 at the same time... so if you're reading this, you might have missed a chapter...

* * *

**Day 73 **

Scorching sun burned mercilessly from the sky above L.A. on this Sunday afternoon while Tony wandered the streets a couple of blocks away from his house. That's right, _his_ house. The house he'd bought with his own money. Well, half of it anyway. And this shady barkeeper kicked him out of the run-down waterhole in Compton because he'd run out of cash. And he'd been kicked out of the bar before that, too. _'Had too much.' 'Too drunk.'_

_What the hell do they know?_ Tony thought._ Am I not old enough to make my own decisions? _

_Not that your decisions are unquestionable. _

_Whatever._

He crossed a street carelessly, not raising his eyes to look at the traffic light first. Who cared if he got run over? He sure didn't. His own appearance repelled him right now. His clothes stuck to him as if glued on. He hadn't changed since Wednesday, since he got fired from that stupid place. He stank of sweat, cigarette smoke and old alcohol, his hair was greasy and the stubble on his face had grown long enough to earn the name beard. His head was about to explode, thanks to the proverbial hangover from hell. _I need a drink to make this go away,_ he thought, rounding yet another corner. _Hope she's not home._

He'd spent the better part of the morning sitting around on park benches and trying not to look like a homeless bum. Judging by the reactions his presence evoked in people - most of them went out of their way to avoid coming too close to him - he wasn't doing too well. He'd been wandering around for hours, aimlessly at first. At some point after noon, beat and bored, he decided to start walking home; not that he had many options: he'd drunk all his cash, he couldn't pay for a cab, and even if he'd been in the condition to drive, he didn't remember where exactly he'd parked the SUV. Maybe he'd have the police look for it once he'd sobered up.

Finally, he found himself in their street, approaching the house with mixed feelings. He'd need to shower and hopefully get some sleep in a bed for a change, but that could only happen if Michelle wasn't home. Sure, he could just lock himself up in the bedroom, but he couldn't keep her from talking, which she was pretty good at. Though chances were she would leave him alone; she was learning.

Getting closer to the house, he began to perceive shouts close by, shouts of children like those he already knew he'd never have. Turning his head slightly towards the source of the sounds, he made out Pat's kids who were playing in the yard, running around, chasing the dog who'd grown to a respectable size by now. Whether the tail-wagging Lab was enjoying the chase or not Tony couldn't tell, but it was barking vigorously and Tony sped up. He really couldn't take all that noise right now, not with this headache. And he noticed another thing: Michelle's car wasn't in the driveway. _Thank God,_ he thought with relief. This way, he could at least just have a drink in peace and be by himself for a while.

Pushing the key into the lock, he swung the door open and walked in, before slamming it shut behind him again. He dropped both his jacket and the keys to the floor, not bothering to put them where they belonged. About to switch on the light, he only now noticed that there was light in the living-room already. _What the..._

The place was quiet. The only perceivable sound was the persistant buzzing of a fly somewhere close by. Apart from its perpetual circular flight, there was no motion. Someone else could have been fooled into thinking the house was empty, but Tony knew Michelle; she'd rather go back inside twice to make sure all lights were off than just rush outside, and if she really wasn't home, the only logical conclusion was a thief. Tony couldn't in all honesty think of anyone else with a reason to be in their living room right now, unless Michelle had a lover Tony didn't know about and this guy was impertinent enough to make himself comfortable in the living room while Michelle was out. Tony took the wall, flattening himself against it. For a second there, he wished for a handgun or at least a knife. He had neither.

The light flickered minimally; Tony's every muscle tensed but he controlled his heartbeat. The throbbing in his head was louder than his thoughts but he shook his head once, trying to focus and get into fighting mode. The door might have warned the intruder, but if not, Tony might still have the element of surprise. _Go_, he then ordered himself.

Eyes scanning the room from one end to the other, head moving in one line with his body, Tony cautiously stepped around the corner, trying to keep his back as close to the wall as possible. No shadows were moving in the kitchen, there was no-one by the stairs and the lights upstairs were off. The light was coming from the lamp by the couch and a man was sitting in the chair next to it. Tony let out an annoyed sigh and the tension on his face eased. The man's arms were stretched on the armrests like he belonged there. The tails of his white shirt just about covered the pockets of his black denims and his thinning hair had a greyish shade in this light. _Now there's a surprise_.

Tony straightened his back and folded his arms. "What the hell are you doing in my house, Jack?"

"Michelle let me in." Jack replied in an even voice. "Two days ago."

Tony let out a bitter laugh. "What, are you screwing my wife?"

"Don't be stupid."

Tony grinned, then turned his back on Jack. "Where is she, anyway? You just been keeping her company in my absence, hmm?" he leered, heading to the alcohol cabinet which was now stacked with booze. Tony grabbed a bottle of Vat69 and poured himself a hearty drink. He took a swig and already felt a little better.

Jack sat up in the chair before remarking, "In your absence? You've been out drinking, not on a business trip."

"Stay out of it, Jack!" Tony shouted. _That's none of your business, Jack, and you know it damn well!_ He took an angry step towards Jack but held himself back. _Don't let him provoke you_, he told himself and added, in a little more composed voice, "You didn't answer me."

"Division sent her to Houston for a conference. She'll be back tomorrow." Jack replied calmly, then offered, gesturing towards the couch, "Sit down, Tony."

Tony remained standing. "This is _my_ house, Jack. I don't need an invitation from you."

"Sit down anyway."

"You don't give me orders." Tony shot back. After pouring the rest of the whiskey down his throat, he asked, "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you," Jack replied and stood, taking a couple of slow ­steps towards Tony.

"About what?"

"You know exactly what about." Jack answered, locking eyes with Tony.

_Here we go again. _Tony gave a small laugh, placing the empty glass on top of the cabinet. "Get off your high horse, Jack! How dare you give me lectures about how to live my life?" Jack was just two feet away and he stared at Tony with that look he usually gave suspects he was interrogating, a look that was enough to push Tony's buttons. "You think you're all better? Don't tell me you didn't need a drink or two after Teri died. Don't tell me you didn't fall into a deep, dark hole. We both know the truth, now, don't we? You wasted your life away for a long time. Distancing yourself from family and friends, nursing a death wish, the drugs with the Salazars... need I go on?" he spat.

Jack closed the gap between Tony and himself. "This isn't about me. It's about you," he said, eyes narrowed, raising a finger in Tony's face.

Tony grabbed Jack's hand and shoved it to the side. "Oh, yeah? Well, maybe we should make it about you for once, shall we?" Tony paused for just a second, hands on his hips. "I hid your little heroin habit from Kim and Chappelle and everybody else for months. I agreed to hide your ingenious sting operation. For two months, I kept the secrets from everyone, _including_Michelle. You know what that earned me? Contempt, that's all. Michelle decided she couldn't trust me. She figured since I deceived her once, I could do it again. Gee, thanks, Jack."

Anger flashed in Jack's eyes for a moment but his voice came out controlled. "My heroin habit was part of the job, as was the need to keep the mission profile to ourselves. It was the only way to keep it contained and you know that just as we-"

"Well Michelle sure didn't like it when she found out." Tony interjected.

Jack raised his voice. "She would have gotten over it eventually. Michelle has always understood the game. She knew what the job demanded, she proved it when she went back to Saunders to make the exchange. You screwed up your relationship with her on your own, you didn't need my help."

"Go to hell." Tony growled, kneeing Jack in the abdomen. "Bastard." Grabbing Jack's face with his left hand, he pushed him away and towards the wall, giving himself space to act and landed a hard blow on Jack's cheekbone. Jack reacted quickly to Tony's next attempt and blocked Tony's arm as the fist came flying towards him, subsequently returning the favor and punching Tony's temple. A black curtain formed before Tony's eyes, and he blindly threw his whole weight forward, crushing into Jack. Jack's arms tightened around Tony's body and before Tony could push him into the wall, Jack slammed their foreheads together. The pain that flared inside Tony's skull made him lightheaded for a moment, but now there was no turning back. He'd kill the bastard if he had to. He got a hold of Jack again and put all his strength into grabbing him. Swiping a leg to Jack's feet, he pulled it back, hooked his calf with Jack's, at the same time hanging his weight on Jack's neck to get him on the ground. They wrestled just a few seconds, then both of them landed on the floor, Tony first, Jack second. Each refusing to let go of the other, they rolled over on impact, eventually making half a turn, Tony ending up on top of Jack. Sitting on Jack's chest, Tony hit him in the face. The punch slammed Jack's head against the floor and split his lip so that blood spurted from it. Leaning in, Tony pressed his forearm against Jack's throat. "Shut up, Jack!" He knew he was choking Jack, but only pressed his whole body down harder, energized by anger and hatred. "Shut up!"

Jack grabbed Tony's arm with both his hands, causing Tony to lean in even more. While holding Tony's arm with one hand, he suddenly led his right arm up, striking Tony's chin with the lower part of his palm, sending Tony's head back. As the pressure on his throat eased ever so slightly for a second, he lifted Tony's arm and, sitting up, pushed Tony's chest back, far enough to tightly wrap his legs around Tony's shoulders. Finally, he peeled Tony off and threw him to the ground.

_Son of a bitch!_ Tony cursed inwardly as he landed on his rear, but, having been almost constantly drunk for the past days, he wasn't exactly in the best fighting shape. He tried to get up but before he could, Jack's fist came flying towards him. Tony reacted just a split second too late, missing the right timing to block Jack's arm. The blow cut the skin above his left eye, in the same place it had been cut mere days earlier, and sent him flat on the ground. His eyes closed involuntarily and that's when he knew he'd lose the fight. _Again. Like back at CTU. _Even before he opened them again, he felt Jack grab both his arms, press them against his chest and turn him to his stomach. Jack then twisted Tony's arms behind his back, and placed one knee on it. "It's over, Tony, calm down."

"Screw you, Jack! You don't tell me what-"

"Relax."

"JACK!" Tony struggled to get away from Jack's grip but as he did, the pain in his arms only got more intense.

"Relax, Tony."

"Son of a bitch." Both Jack's and his own weight pressed on Tony's aching chest, only adding to the pain from the other bruises that still hadn't completely faded away. His head felt like a rubber ball already inflated with too much air but still connected to the pump, and Tony decided his best bet was to give up before it exploded. Lying still, he stopped resisting Jack. "Fine." he finally muttered. _Oh hell, my head. Damn._

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."_Get the hell off me._

"All right," Jack whispered, and Tony felt the pressure on his back ease slightly. Jack waited a couple more seconds, and then let go off Tony, standing up. While waiting for Tony to do the same, he glanced at the sleeve of his white shirt. A few small stains and a smear of blood were already on it; he pressed it against his bleeding lip.

Tony first slowly rose to his knees. He touched his cheek instinctively. Blood was trickling down it and he wiped it off with the back of his hand._Bastard. Comes into my house to give me orders. The least I owed him was a broken ankle. _Then he staggered up, still dizzy from the fight, the headache, the hangover, all of it at the same time.Barely looking at Jack, before turning away, he simply said, "Get the hell out. NOW!"

"To-"

"GET OUT JACK! I'm not telling you again!" Tony yelled and headed to the closest bathroom.

Jack stayed put for a little while still, even after Tony had slammed shut the bathroom door. "Son of a bitch." he swore under his breath, again cleaning up his lip. "Damn it, Tony."

He waited a little while longer, listening to the water flowing in the bathroom. "Great. Just great." He looked around briefly, then grabbed his jacket from the couch, picked up his case from the floor and headed for the door.

--

Tony was standing in front of the mirror, a fluffy blue towel wrapped around his hips. He combed his hair back with his fingers for the tenth time, took the shaver from the wash basin but put it back again, ran his fingers through his hair again. _What are you doing? She's not gonna be here any time soon_At that, he shook his head, and let the water run. _And it's not like your appearance is gonna make any difference, not with the things you've gotta say_. The black stubble that had been a protective layer on his face until minutes ago obeyed gravity and the running water, whirling down the drain. With it disappeared the drunken bum off the street from two hours ago and in his place now stood a decent human being again, at least on the outside. Thanks to chemistry, Tony's headache had also lessened to the point of tolerability: one more step towards improvement, despite the bruises. Carefully, Tony passed a hand over his face, wincing as he reached the huge bruise on the now naked cheekbone. _Damn you, Jack_.

He gave his eyebrow a critical look. _At least the bleeding stopped._ And the shower had helped calm his nerves. _Well, there's still time to rest before she gets here. We do need to talk_. Tony sighed, and, switching off the light, headed straight to his bedroom. _How often have I told her to keep Jack out of this? Ten times? Twenty? And yet, every once in a while, he just materializes out of nowhere and thinks he knows better._

Without ado, he crawled into the bed and let out a contented breath. After having spent days outside, to be able to sink into a soft mattress and sleep engulfed by fresh sheets was the Olymp of comfort. "Life's small pleasures..." he whispered to himself while he pulled the bed cover closer. "Ya never know what ya got 'till it's gone."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at the over the top wisdom of his words. _It's just a bed, get a grip_. He turned to the side and closed his eyes. _Michelle_, he thought,_ I need to talk to her about Esther, too. Robin... He set me up for a reason. _

_Yeah but if you do, you're gonna have to explain everything from day one. She won't understand. _

_Maybe she will. _

_Maybe she won't. _

_I destroyed the camera. Whatever they were planning, they screwed up. _

He turned in bed to lie on his other side. _Well, they did get me fired. That succeeded. Bastards. As for Michelle, we'll see when she gets here._

--

The ringing phone woke him in the early morning; but by the time he'd picked up the receiver, the caller had hung up. The caller ID didn't show and Tony was just about to replace the phone when it rang again. This time he recognized the number and numbly stared at the display for three seconds. _Well, it'd be better if I just told her right now. Just in case Robin did get something off that camera._

"Yeah." he finally picked up and waited. _How'm I gonna say this without it sounding like I did something wrong? They're the idiots, she has to understand that. _

The first thing that greeted him on the other end was slight hesitation, then Michelle's voice. "Tony?"

The tone of it suddenly irked him. His resolve to talk to her flew out the window and he snapped, "Yeah. Whom did you expect? Jack? I threw him out."

He heard her let out a sigh. Then her high heels klicked on a hard surface a few times and he imagined her walk to some secluded corner somewhere to have some privacy before she spoke again. "What happened?"

"What did you think would happen?" he asked, while moving to the kitchen, then stopping in the door frame and turning back again, as if she were standing in front of him and he was confronting her. "We didn't quite part in the friendliest of ways."

Michelle sighed again, and then leaned against the wall behind her, rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache coming. She closed her eyes. Through the phone, Tony heard a woman's voice welcome passengers on board Continental Airlines and announcing that Flight 1595 to Los Angeles was now ready for boarding. Marginally, he noted that Michelle was still in Houston; it would take her hours to get back._She called to see if her plan had worked. _She was still quiet, though, so he eventually added, "In fact, I don't ever wanna see Jack again."

He moved deeper into the kitchen and grabbed a blue mug from a cupboard. _She isn't even trying to deny she sent him. _The mug still in hand, Tony turned to stare out the window, as if just beyond the dawning day lay Houston, only a heartbeat away. _Why the hell isn't she saying anything?_

He gave her a couple more seconds, but then gave in to his sarcastic devil. "Isn't this the part where you tell me I should stop pushing people away, I tell you to stay out of it, and then you hang up the phone?"

She seemed to gasp momentarily but then replied, "Fine, I'll give you part of that," and cut the connection.

"Right," Tony mumbled. _Well, I didn't think she'd do it. I was wrong._

He rubbed his cheek with one hand as if he'd just been slapped, then sighed before placing the phone onto the kitchen table. The black clock on the wall told him it was only 6:11 a.m._ I could go back to bed_, he thought, staring at the clock for a few seconds before dismissing the thought. He put his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, leaning on it slightly.

_I should have told her about Esther. _

_Not in the mood she was in. She would have thought you cheated on her and are trying to lie your way out of it... And telling her you were fired, over the phone? Not an option. _

_Yeah, it's just gonna have to wait_, he concluded, heaving a sigh and opening the refrigerator.

The light inside the six-feet tall fridge had been broken for a while, but Tony hadn't bothered to replace it and Michelle didn't care to call the Kenmore guy either. All that stared back at Tony from the half-darkness inside were a couple cartons of juices, a bottle of milk, a few jars and three or four pre-cooked microwaveable dishes Michelle must have bought since he hadn't been home too often lately; and even if he had been, he hadn't really cooked for her in months.

Tony closed the fridge again. _Time to get out of here. She's not gonna be back until the evening anyway. She's gonna go to Division first when she lands in LA. They're waiting for her. And I could use some fresh air._

That's how he'd made up his mind. He'd slipped into his clothes and disappeared from the neighborhood for the day. He'd planned on coming back the same evening, but somehow he'd passed out in the SUV after that last bar that he'd been to had closed its doors behind him. In the morning, he figured Michelle was at work anyway, and he wanted to sober up before he could talk to her, so he didn't rush to return home. Eventually, he took a cab, not wanting to risk a DUI charge; the thought of cops handling him apalled him enough to keep him reasonable. The cab driver cursed at Tony under his breath because Tony didn't include a tip, but who cared; Tony felt he needed his cash for other things right now. As the angry cab squealed away, Tony looked around. Michelle's car wasn't there, but then again, he didn't expect it to be; she would come home from work in a couple of hours, just time enough for him to settle down and relax a little. He went inside.

He neatly hung his jacket on the rack this time, and put his keys on the sideboard without barely making a sound. He noted the sideboard had recently been wiped clean. Michelle must have had a cleaning fit last night as she got home. It wouldn't be the first time; she did that sometimes when she needed to distract herself. About to head into the living room, he glanced at the floor, noticing two pairs of his shoes that were were neatly sitting next to each other on a rug, but none of Michelle's were there. Glancing up on the rack again, he only now realized that the only jackets and coats hanging from it were his own. Suddenly, an awkward feeling overcame him, a feeling he didn't dare put into words. Almost frightened, he pushed himself forward, stepping into the living room.

The latest few issues of L.A. Times lay stacked on the glass table, waiting for him to browse through them. The remote control sat on top of them. The table was just as perfectly dusted as the sideboard. The red glass vase that he'd bought for Michelle a while back and that had stood in the middle of the table for months was gone. He couldn't remember it breaking; it had still been there when he'd last left the house. He curled the fingers of both his hands into fists as he glanced around the room, slowly leading his eyes from the floor up the wall ahead, and then across towards the study, not daring move his head along with his eyes. What he feared didn't seem to be true: the photos of him and Michelle that lined the walls and almost covered all the flat surfaces in the room were still there. Tony let out a breath he'd been holding. _Maybe she did happen to break the vase_.

But then his eyes returned to one prominent spot on the wall - one that now stood as empty as he was beginning to feel inside; their best, 11x14 inch sized wedding photo was gone. Tony now began to feel a tightness in his chest. He rushed across the room to the study, ripping the door open. A census of the book shelves would have come up with half the number than usual, Michelle's desk was one clean surface, so he didn't even bother to walk up to it to check if the drawers were empty, too; by now, he was sure they were.

He began to feel dizzy. The palms of his hands began to sweat. Ignoring both, Tony raced across the house. He ran up the stairs. He burst straight into Michelle's bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. The furniture was as bare as Michelle's desk in the study. The room seemed lonely. It seemed deserted. The truth was dawning on him by now but he refused to accept it. He stepped up to the closet and opened all of its six doors, two by two.

His clothes were still there.

Michelle's were not.

The gaping void stared back at him as if laughing at him. _"You screwed up, you idiot. You failed."_

_No. No, no, no, she didn't_, he thought, backing up towards the bed. _She didn't._

The emptiness seemed to threaten to swallow him. He took one more step back. And another. The next step sent him backwards to the bed and he half fell, half sat down on the mattress. His breaths became short and shallow. His throat tightened, his chest hurt; he was running out of air, as if suffocating. The feeling was too well known, too much like the panic attacks he had been suffering from, except, this time, there was no blur, no blindness, no tunnel vision, no fear of death; there was simple pain and pure shock. Tony grasped his throat, opened his mouth to breathe; no air came in. Sweat protruded from his pores. Suddenly sitting upright, he gasped, forcing his throat to open. When he finally managed to take a breath he thankfully realized he wasn't going to die.

He didn't blink for a full minute while his breathing normalized and his eyes stared seemingly into nothingness. Then he remained seated for another five, unable to even formulate a coherent thought. Finally, he became aware of an aching heel, realizing he must have hit it as he bumped into the bed, and as he moved his leg, he noticed he was sitting on something. Reaching for it, he produced a large, yellow envelope. _Oh, no._

Weakly, he placed it onto his knees. "Tell me this isn't what I know it is," he whispered.

An eternity later, movements as slow as if he were opening a letter containing his death sentence, Tony reached inside the envelope, feeling for the smooth, firm paper it contained. He wanted to close his eyes as he pulled the photographs out, but couldn't. The material had been printed in color, the resolution was nearly perfect, and there he was, in the break room, kissing Esther Wagner.

Defeated and empty, he looked at the remaining "documentation". The photographs told a simple story and while looking at them, Tony imagined Michelle doing the same, her eyes welling up, tears rolling down her cheeks. This was probably what she had been waiting for, the proof that he didn't love her any more, that the Tony she had known had fallen for someone else, that she could leave and start a new life without him now; that what the Tony that had told her to hang up the phone had really meant was that he was about to turn his back on her; that a blonde, bosomy chick was all it took to make him throw away what he and Michelle had had, and Michelle was much too strong to stand by and watch. She had wanted explanations from him - this turned out to be one, even if completely untrue.

_She didn't even leave a note. Guess I wasn't really worth it._

Tony let the papers fall to the floor and put his head in his hands.

_They got what they wanted. They destroyed everything I had. _

His thoughts didn't go any further than that. The pain he felt was blocking any further processing of the facts. It was too frightening to think about how he would manage to live without Michelle, it was too preposterous to think he could make her come back, too futile to hope she'd find out the truth on her own. But he did slowly begin to realize he'd lost her. He wanted to cry. Yet his eyes remained dry, like tears were as much in shock as he was.

A long time later, he abruptly stood and began to hastily look for something in the closet. He didn't find it, but he found a piece of paper torn out of a notebook and on it, he recognized Michelle's handwriting.

His hands trembled as he held unfolded the paper and read the note.

_"Dear Tony,_

_If you're looking for this, I guess it means you do still love me. Or maybe that you feel too sorry for yourself to think about what it would do to me if you died. Please don't do it. Only cowards take their own lives and you're not a coward, Tony, you've never been. Never._

_But I honestly don't know who you are any more, sweetheart, and I can't take it any longer. _

_Please don't do this. Live your life. Let me live mine. _

_I will always love you, Tony. Always. But I just can't stay." _The last word was smudged, the paper wrinkled in that spot. The note ended with a simple plea.

_"Please let me go. _

_Love always, _

_'Chelle."_

He read it over but he already knew it by heart. He subconsciously moved a finger to where her tear had fallen as if caressing the only thing that was left of her with him.

_'you're not a coward, Tony' _

_No, I'm not. I'm not a coward. But what have I got left? _

Every word he read tore a hole in his heart, and yet, those last three words could have been hope. The way she signed the note. He was the only one to call her that. The last three words. They could mean something. Or not.

While he stood in the heartless bedroom, lost in emptiness, he folded the paper neatly and put it in his chest pocket, close to his heart. Could he dare hope?

_'Please let me go. '_

He would. He'd respect her wish. Even if he fell apart. He leaned on the wall, slowly sliding down to the floor. Knees pulled to his chest, placed a palm on his breast pocket, feeling the note again and closed his eyes, wishing the world would remain black like this forever.

**The End**


End file.
